


To Act in the Presence

by ofshadowsandstars



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Verse, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence, Companion Bucky, Deaf Clint Barton, Ear Piercings, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fugitives, Gun Violence, Human Experimentation, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Wanda, Self-Mutilation, Smuggling, Space Pirates, Swordfighting, Trans Female Character, mysterious pasts, trans tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 80,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofshadowsandstars/pseuds/ofshadowsandstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A captain's goal is simple: find a crew, find a job, keep flying.<br/>That's how it's gone, day in and day out for years. Sure, they're not filthy rich, but they get by. Just to earn a little extra cash, the crew of the Avenger allows some passengers - nothing long-term, just people needing to get from A to B.<br/>It doesn't go as planned, but, in the grand scheme of things, it was what made all their lives more interesting. It put them in mortal danger more often than not, but it was still interesting.</p><p>(Based on the plot of 2002 show Firefly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Avenger: Prologue - No Angels

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a fic which had to be taken down due to copyright issues. I'm finagling the text to make it more original and less like plagiarism. I can't promise consistent posting, but I will do my best!

The world is exploding.

Logically, Steve knows that’s not true, but it just seems like it. All around him, men in identical uniforms are being gunned down, boulders are being blasted apart, and hell is completely raining down on them. The night would be beautiful if not for the constant destruction at the hands of the brightly-colored beams of energy at all sides. Enemy trucks - probably filled with supplies or ammunition, if not both - come towards him and are promptly shot at. They may not have been completely taken down, but slowing the enough to get back to their makeshift camp is Steve’s priority.

The canyon is wide and shallow enough to make a decently-sized battlefield, but not so much that they’re easy targets from the air. Jumping from from stones and sprinting in between, firing shots over his shoulder every few moments, Steve makes his way back as quickly and safely as he can, given the situation and the enemy skiff up above. The damn thing was slow, but it fired with incredible accuracy.

Bodies are constantly in his way, and he has to be ever-vigilant for trucks, bombers, and enemy soldiers, but eventually, Steve gets to the shelter. Once inside, he crouches safely (or as safe as he can get) behind the sandbags and gestures for the few soldiers there to come towards him.

“Sergeant,” the nearest man says, “Command says air support is holding until they can assess our status.”

Steve grunts.  _ Typical _ . He starts talking again just as Natasha comes over, pretty face stained with dirt and grime and her long hair pulled back. “I don’t know about them, but I’m thinking that our status is shit. Do your best to get us back online and get us some air support.”

“We need to move before the skiff gets us.” Natasha argues, emerging into his direct line of sight.

“They won’t move without a lieutenant’s authorization code, sir.” The same soldier from before. Why couldn’t Shield ever be just a little more helpful? They were the good guys, yeah, but they were frustrating as hell.

Before the kid even finished talking, Steve was on his way to the nearest body in the shelter: lieutenant Green. He pulled the patch with his code off and handed it to the soldier. “Take it. Here’s your code now. You’re lieutenant Green now. You shouldn’t have any problem getting that air support.” Steve turned to the other half-dozen men (and Natasha) gathered around him. “Alright, as for the rest of you. Pull back just - and I mean  _ just _ \- far enough to wedge ‘em back here,” Steve pointed to Natasha, “Get your squad to high ground; start pickin’ them off.”

She shook her head. “High ground is death with that skiff. The risk won’t be worth it.” Natasha was fearless and brilliant, and she tended to have more common sense than Steve. However, this was not the time for common sense.

“That thing is our biggest problem, and I know you can handle it. I  _ need _ you to handle it, Romanoff.” He turned to a young man quivering next to him, eyes straight ahead. “Bowen. Give us some cover fire, alright? We’ve got some hunting to do..” 

Just as Steve finished speaking, and explosion shook the ground, causing them all to pitch forward and bits of rock to fall. Steve looked around, seeing the dread and fear increasing the in soldiers’ faces by the second. “Come on guys, just focus!” He called, trying to bring them back to the now. They weren’t any use to him if they were going to be freaking out, and they certainly wouldn’t have been able to go home. “Hydra said they were going to come in and waltz right through Avengers Canyon.” He made sure to look each of them in the eye, hoping he looked at least slightly more confident than he felt, “And as of today, we choked ‘em with those words.” He was smiling now. It felt good to remind himself this wasn’t for nothing, not yet. “We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty.” Personally, Steve hated speeches like that, but they had been proven to improve morale, so why not? “Just a little while longer, alright everyone? Soon, our angels are gonna be soaring overhead, raining fire on those arrogant assholes. So you hold. Got it?” He turned to Bowen, but spoke to all of them. “You hold! Go!”

The men scattered, getting ready to move out. Steve headed towards the edge of the line of sandbags, and Natasha crawled up next to him. “Do you really think we can bring it down?” Steve knew Natasha better than any of the other soldiers, and he was proud to call her a friend. 

“Do you even need to ask?” He’s fairly convinced Nat can read his mind half the time, so she can see through his bullshit. He’s still optimistic about their chances - how could he not be? - but there’s a part of him that lets his face fall after that cocky remark. He’s afraid the answer to Natasha’s question would be ‘no’.

Either way, it’s go time. He can’t afford to be joking around. Steve pressed a quick kiss to the wooden cross around his neck - the very one his ma had given him on her deathbed - and sent a small prayer. He’s not exactly a believer, not anymore, but Steve needs all the help he can get. 

“Ready?” He asks Natasha.

“Always,” is her reply. God, Steve’s glad he’s got her. With that bit of confidence, he’s able to stand up and run back out into the action.

 

“Bowen.” Natasha turns to the young man, who remains frozen in fear. “ _ Bowen! _ ” In any other situation, she would have slapped him, but she knows by now that it won’t do much good. “перейти срать!” She tells him before standing up and firing shots over the barrier as Steve runs out, firing as well. 

He takes down a few soldiers nearby before crouching behind a rock. Natasha joins him right after. They rest for a brief moment before someone calls out, saying there are more coming. Steve doesn’t hesitate to get up and take aim, and Natasha lets him, as he’s in the slightly better spot.  He fires of a few shots, and then Natasha hears a distinct groan right before Steve crouches back down. He stays still for a beat before heading off towards the nearest laser turret, Natasha right at his heels. As soon as he’s close enough, Steve hops on and fires it up.

The machine whirrs to life as the targeting screen flickers on. Steve clenches his jaw as he locks onto the skiff and fires. He swivels back and forth, trying to get a direct hit. After a moment, he manages to land several hits and allows himself a brief second to smile. That moment ended quickly, however, when the flaming skiff begins to fall in his direction. Steve backs away from the turret, and once it becomes clear that the aircraft is coming down very near, he starts to run.

“Natasha!” He gives the woman a second of warning before tackling her to the ground just as the skiff makes contact, sending dirt, stone, and debris flying everywhere.

They look up, hearing the chaos coming from enemy soldiers and seeing their things go up in flames. Steve starts to laugh, giddy. They’d done it. They’d taken out the skiff, their biggest threat. There was no way Command wouldn’t send in their angels now.

 

“Nice cover fire.” Natasha snapped at Bowen as they re-entered the barricade. He was still frozen in that same spot, rocking back and forth.

“Did you see that?” Steve was still running on the high from taking down the skiff and barely registered the petrified soldier. “Green,” Steve quickly made his way to the soldier monitoring the comms, “what’s our status on-” Just then, the smoke previously in the way cleared, revealing the soldier’s dead body, face covered in blood. Not giving it time to register, Steve turned around and waved Natasha over, pointing at the radio.

She obeyed silently, giving him a minute nod that he may or may not have imagined. Steve went to Bowen, who had a white-knuckled grip on his gun but seemed in no way inclined to move.

“Listen to me,” Steve commanded. His voice sounded distant and garbled in his own ears, as if he were underwater. He just needed this kid to haul ass and he needed him to do it now. Pep talk time it was. “Bowen, look at me.” Steve shoved him lightly, and the soldier turned his head to look him in the eye, face contorted in a scared grimace. “We’re holding this canyon no matter what. We’re not backing down, not today.”

“We’re gonna die.” Bowen choked, the first words he’d said in hours. 

“We’re not gonna die.” Steve reassured. “We can’t die, Bowen. And you know why? We’re the good ones here. We’re the ones fighting for freedom, for peace. If we die now, fear is going to win, and I can’t let that happen. Now, I could talk until your ears fall off, but I need you to be brave here, alright?” He really hoped that would work.

Steve’s head snapped up at the sound of aircrafts overhead. He turned to Natasha hopefully, waiting to hear what she was hearing on the radio. “Don’t listen to me, listen to that.” He told Bowen. And he meant it. Those were his angels, coming to rain fire. “Those are our angels, and they’re gonna blow those лохи to hell!” He turned back to Natasha. “Nat, tell the 107th to-”

“They’re not coming.” Natasha’s voice was grave, her face a mix of fear and disappointment and solemnity. Steve’s face fell. “Command says it’s too much. They’re pulling out. We’re to lay down arms.”

Steve wanted to scream. He wanted to run out screaming and hack down as many sons of bitches as he could until he got blown to bits. His angels were cowards. His angels were  _ liars _ . A single rational thought burst through the anger, asking, “But what’s-”  _ the sound I heard _ .

The sound of approaching aircrafts grows louder, and Steve stands up, not caring about the enemy. He stands with wide eyes, mouth hanging open, as he watches dozens more enemy ships descend from the sky, much bigger than the skiff. Steve can’t move, can barely hear. He doesn’t register Bowen standing next to him, doesn’t register when the kid goes down, hit. 

At some point, Natasha drags him down, back to safety.

At some point, they’re forced to give up. Steve just floats through it all, numb to the world.

His angels had abandoned him. 

His angels had  _ abandoned _ him. 

_ His angels had abandoned him. _

  
There were no angels to begin with. Only kinder devils.


	2. Avenger: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crime, deals, and some new faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love this episode. There will be two other parts following this one, though most episodes are only in two parts. There is a tiny bit of NSFW, but it's brief and not at all graphic. Enjoy!

 

 

"Courage is not the absence of fear, it is the ability _to act in the presence_ of fear."

-Bruce Lee

~~~

 

They’d done this dance many times before, but space doesn’t exactly cooperate. They were untethered and prepared to run (or the spacewalk equivalent of run) at a moment’s notice. A fumble with the damn glue gun was a waste of time, and talking was minimal. The only sound to be heard was deep breathing.

He had to hand it to Tony: the sticky was amazing. A clear, glue-like substance with a thin red wire inside that was dispensed cleanly onto a surface. There was a detonator - a silver cylinder about nine inches long - that you connected to the wire, activated, and stepped away. Well, in this case, Steve pushed away. The wire glowed red, the directly underneath melted, and the panel popped off.

“Okay, we get the goods, get away, and haul ass back the ship. Nice and clean.” Steve was assuring himself as much as he was his crew. No matter how many times he did this, there was always that fear, that risk.

 _“Everything looks good from up here.”_ Clint reported over the comms.

“That was definitely full pressure,” Natasha noted, seeing how far the panel flew off. “More likely than not that the goods are intact.”

Thor pulled open the vault door as Steve shone a light in. Standing there were several crates, gray and nondescript. Perfect. “Okay, we’re lookin’ good.” Steve encouraged.

Clint, of course, ruined the moment. _“Cap, we’ve got an incoming Hydra cruiser headed straight for us.”_

“Ебена мать! Have they spotted us?”

_“I can’t tell yet!”_

“Barton, have they hailed us?” He didn’t have time for this. Yes or no questions and answers only.

“If they came here for the salvage, we must act quickly,” Thor commented, stating the obvious.

“If they find us, we’re finished.” Natasha added, “We aren’t exactly being law-abiding citizens.

Steve was somehow able to think around the talking. “Clint, shut it down. Now. Everything but the air.”

Aboard the _Avenger_ , Clint was hitting buttons, and flipping switches, shutting off the power. He opened up the ship-wide comms. “Tony,” he called, “Tony, go dark. We’ve got company.”

On the other end of the ship, Tony ran into the engine room. She never went far from her baby, especially not during a job. Always had to be ready to fly. Or not fly, in this case. “подтвержаю,” she said into the comm. “Going dark.” Tony in turn began flipping switches before climbing up onto the support on the wall and shutting off the generator. Within seconds, the lights were fully off. Tony turned to head back down, but then realized it was pitch-black. “Well, extra genius points for me,” Tony muttered to herself.

 

_-So what am I looking at?_

_\--Carrier ship. Blew out a few months back, lost all hands. But it was run by a skeleton crew anyways._

_-Damn shame. No point in checking for survivors?_

 

 _“Clint? They slowing down?”_ Steve’s slightly anxious voice asked as it came over the radio.

“That would be a no, Cap.” He checked the screens just to be sure. “Don’t seem to be interested in us. We should be out of the woods.”

Back out in the open, Steve, Natasha, and Thor waited tensely, eyes locked onto the towering structure that was the Hydra cruiser. _Cruiser_ , Steve thought _, that thing’s a goddamn city._

 

_\--Sir, there is a reading on that thing. Some residual heat._

_-Do a sweep._

 

A signal beeped on Clint’s control panel. “Мне, как всегда, не везет! Cap, we’ve been spotted!”

 _“Fire it up!”_ Steve turned to Nat and Thor. “We take what we can and get it on the ship. Let’s go.”

“Tony, fire it up!” Clint called over the ship’s PA, turning his own lights back on.

 

_-What am I looking at?_

_\--It’s a transport ship, Firefly class. They still make those?_

_-Not for years. My guess is illegal salvage. Low-life vultures picking the flesh off the dead._

_\--Should we deploy gunships and bring her in?_

_-Do it._

 

The three of them stuck to the parts of the wreck that gave them cover, creating a nice little path back to the ship (they’d planned it that way). Steve focused on two things: where he was going and his grip on the crate, weightless in space. Once the lights on the underside of _Avenger_ came on, he addressed Clint over the comms. “Barton, I think this would be the time for that help of yours.”

“Technically, it’s Tony’s,” the pilot replied, punching in orders. “But anyway, engaging the crybaby.”

A good ways away, a metal barrel floating in space began to beep. Well, the transmitter attached began to beep. Another one of Tony’s genius inventions, the crybaby was relatively simple, yet extremely effective. It also showed off Tony’s sense of humor, as she had hammered sheets of metal to the side of the barrel and painted the word CRYBABY across the circumference.

 

 _\--Captain, I am picking up a distress signal 13 clicks away from a…sounds like a_ _personnel carrier. Definitely a big ship, sir. And she’s without power._

 

Steve, Natasha, and Thor, each holding a crate, entered the airlock to the ship’s hull. Thor pushed the button the close the door, Natasha sealed the room, and the crates hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Clint, we’re on. Go,” Steve barked into the comm.

And with that, the _Avenger_ detached from its port, tail glowing gold. “Hang on, folks,” Clint said, speaking to both no one and everyone.

 

_\--They’re rabbiting, sir. Shall I continue deployment?_

_-Our gunships would never get back to us in time. Alright, let’s go help these people. But put out a bulletin on the cortex and flag Interpol. A Firefly with possible stolen goods onboard. Maybe somebody will step on those roaches._

 

 _“We look good, Capt'n.”_ Clint’s voice announced over the PA. _“They are not - I repeat, not - coming after us.”_

“Close one,” Natasha sighed, running a hand through her short red curls.

“Yeah,” Steve replied breathlessly.

“Peril makes for a more satisfying victory,” Thor chimed in from behind, dragging in the crates one by one. “And as long as we return with what we set out for, I’ll consider this a victory.”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t gonna contradict him. He just kept walking. God, did he need to sit down. “We win.”

There was no heart in his voice.

\---

Thor pulled the lid off the crate, Steve having loosened it with a crowbar. “Well, there it is, the fruits of our labor,” the captain declared, surveying the contents of the crate.

“They’re shiny,” Tony commented, not being able to think of anything else.

“I’m with Tony on this one.” Clint agreed as Steve ran his hand over the smooth, coppery surface of the bars. “Definitely worth the risk.”

“Yeah, that was some pretty risky sitting you did back there. Anyone else would’ve cracked under the pressure,” Natasha remarked sarcastically.

“Oh, that’s right. Because they wouldn’t arrest me if they got on board; I’m just the pilot. I can always say that I was flying the ship by accident,” Clint retorted. His expression was annoyed and sarcastic, but the way he was lacing his fingers with Nat's said otherwise. “Y’know, because Hydra’s so understanding about things.”

Steve flipped over one of the bars and was greeted with a familiar, octopus-like logo. “Тихо, пожалуйста,”

“Problem, Steve?” was Natasha’s immediate response, switching instantly back to business mode.

“Can’t say.” Steve placed the bar back. He was suddenly even more tired than before. “But I think it’s best if we get rid of these before we run into another Hydra patrol.” He replaced the lid on the crate.

“What’re they even doing out this far anyway?” Tony wondered aloud, twiddling with a lock of her dark hair. She’d been growing it out; it was almost past her shoulders and was already long enough to tie back. It suited her quite well.

“Shining the light of civilization,” Thor said dryly, uninterested in talking about Hydra. He instead focused on resealing the crate and putting it back. Tony stayed next to him, poking at his big muscles, trying to get a response. She’d been doing it since she met him, and there was still nothing that had upset him. Yet.

“How long until we reach Melinoe?” Steve asked Clint, ignoring the other crew members for the moment.

“Three or four hours,” Clint replied, having already done the calculations.

“Can we shave some time off that?” Steve wasn’t looking to cut down his nap time, but he had business and then some waiting on Melinoe and he wanted to get it over with.

“We’re down fumes on the fuel cells, so to speak. If we run hot, we might not even make it. Sorry, boss.”

Steve nodded. “No, it’s okay. But play it as close as you can, alright?” _This load is burning a hole in my hull._

“Think that cruiser got an ID on us?” Natasha asked, still somewhat in business mode. Oh, who was Steve kidding, life was 90% business for the two of them.

“Let’s hope not,” Steve told his second-in-command. “And contact Rocket, tell him the job’s done.” He stopped her after she’d gone up a few stairs. “Oh, and don’t mention the cruiser. Keep it simple.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. “Steve, we’re _sure_ there’s nothing wrong with the ca-”

“It’s fine,” Steve assured her. “I just wanna get paid.” _And sleep._ She gave him the ‘I don’t believe you’ look, but complied anyway. She hurried up the stairs, Clint a few steps behind.

Steve turned back to Tony and Thor. “Let’s get these crates stowed; I don’t want any tourists tripping on ‘em.” They were already moving the crates, but stopped when the captain started talking.

“We’re taking on passengers at Melinoe?” Thor brightened slightly. He always liked new people. Tony did, too, but not always for good reasons.

“That’s the idea, yep.” Steve carefully pulled open the secret panel in the wall. “We could use us some respectability on the way to Boreas.” He stepped aside, letting the mechanic and muscle have access to the compartment. “Not to mention the money.”

“Ugh,” Tony grumbled. “As long as you keep them away from my baby.”

“Don’t be so negative, Tony. You like new people.”

“I enjoy seeing new faces aboard.” Thor agreed. “They all have such unique, fascinating stories of their own.”

Tony glared at the taller blond man. “You’re lucky you’re all hot and muscly, you know that?”

“Play nice, Tony.”

“I am being nice. I complimented him!”

“She is correct, I feel quite complimented.” Thor chimed in before Steve could gripe at the mechanic more, putting the next crate in the niche.

“Whatever you say, as long as it keeps her in a good mood. Can’t have her scaring away paying customers again. I’d have to dump her out the airlock. It’d be a damn shame to have to do that, too.”

Tony stuck out her tongue at him before planting a wet kiss on Steve’s cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re still my favorite Captain I’ve ever had.” She giggled. Steve couldn’t help but smile.

 

“There’s something not right about this.” Natasha said.

“Tasha, we’re crooks. If everything were ‘right’, we’d be under lock and key,” Clint argued.

Natasha snorted. “You would, maybe. There’s not a prison that can hold me. But it’s not that. There’s something that Cap isn’t telling us.”

“The man is a workaholic. Like the rest of us, needs a break. In fact,” he placed a gentle hand on Natasha’s back, making her stop and look at him, “we could all use a couple days’ leave. Don’t you think?”

She leaned her face in so close to his that her curls were brushing his cheeks and forehead. “We’ve gotta drop off the goods first,” she deadpanned. Her flirty smile came back, of course, as she walked up the steps to the cockpit.

“And we will. But, after we do, we’ll fly off to Boreas, rich and prosperous…well, less poor. But with enough to find some nice little getaway.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind a real bath.” Natasha succumbed to the fantasy, turning to face her husband, her forearms resting on his shoulders, fingers loosely joined behind his neck.

“And a meal that actually included some sort of _food_.” Clint was going off into his own dream world at this point. “Just a couple of days lying around. Maybe doing some shooting. Getting some peace and quiet.” All he had to do to get that was take out his aids, but Clint was lazy like that. “You with the bathing, of course.” He was clearly enjoying this mental checklist. “Me with the watching you bathe.” He pulled Natasha close by the waist to the point that their nose and foreheads were touching.

“Well, if the Captain says it’s alright.”

“I don’t think I need his permission to watch you take your clothes off.” Clint took a step back, frowning. “And if I do, he _really_ should have told me sooner.”

Natasha gave him the glare that was her equivalent of rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean. He’s the Captain, Clint. I can’t just leave without notice, not when we’re looking for a job every opportunity we can get.”

“Right, I’d forgotten. The captain is god, and because I’m just the husband, I am a mere peasant and have no say in anything. Have I got this right?” Clint was trying to look bitter, but it ended up being the pouty puppy face that Natasha hated to love.

“Look, I’ll ask him, okay?” Natasha put on a more cheerful face. It was forced, and Clint knew it.

“Don’t forget to call him ‘sir’. He likes that.” Nat breathed a sigh of relief internally. They were good. He was joking. Okay, not completely joking, but he was in good enough of spirits to make something similar to a joke.

“You know as well as I do that he doesn’t.”

“Who doesn’t like what?” Steve asks, stepping into the bridge.

“It’s nothing, sir.” Natasha hurriedly assures him. Clint gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up.

“Has the, uh, ambassador checked in yet?” Steve asked, ignoring her obvious fib.

“Nah. I think he has a pretty full agenda this time.” Clint tried to recall the exact conversation. Of course, he stopped trying when he remembered that he didn’t want to remember the details of the conversation.

“Alright, that’s fine. After you talk to Rocket, let him know we may be leaving Melinoe in a hurry.”

Natasha nodded. “James has our timetable. He should be checking in.”

“I could tell him to cut it short,” Clint suggested, hoping for a reaction from Steve, “Ask to meet us at the docks.”

“No, no.” Clint had barely stopped talking when Steve started. “We shouldn’t get in his way if we don’t have to.” He turned and headed back down the stairs, adding, “At least one of us makes an honest living.”

\---

“ _Oh, my God_.” The girl was still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm. It was probably her first, after all. Bucky stroked her hair, pushing longer strands behind her ears. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, hands wandering along his muscles and his flesh arm, occasionally stroking down his spine with long nails, sending a pleasant shiver throughout his body.

She whimpered slightly as he started to pull out, holding him closer, wanting him to stay in her. Bucky cooed in her ear, making her relax enough that he can get all the way out. He shifts her slightly, rolls of the condom, and tosses it in the trash bin a few feet away. _Well, that’s the end of that_ , he thought. _Now for part two._

 

“Sihnon isn’t that different from Melinoe, in all honesty.” Bucky sits in the way he had perfected years ago. He’s sitting straight, but he’s also perfectly relaxed and lounging. He and the girl - Crystalline - were sitting, chatting and having a cup of tea. She was asking about his travels. “More crowded, obviously. And, I suppose, more complicated. The great city itself is…” He stared off for a second before turning back to Crystalline, putting on that fake genuine smile he was taught to have. “Pictures can’t capture it. And words are even less use. It’s like…an ocean of light.” Bucky hates lots of lights. It’s why he moved from the city.

“Is that where you…studied?” Her eyes had hardly left his abs the whole time he’d been there. It was starting to be obnoxious. This time, however, her eyes trailed downward slightly, giving a meaningful look to what she knew was hidden under a pair of silk pants. “To be a companion?”

“I was born there.” Nope. Manufactured story, made to be spoon fed.

“I just can’t imagine ever leaving home.” Classic. Daddy’s girl, likes staying where all the money is. Let’s say it’s nationalistic pride or attachment, though.

“Well, I wanted to see the universe.” This much is honest. And God, has he seen the universe.

“Do you…” Oh, great. This bit. “Really have to leave?” Yep.

Bucky gave her a gentle ‘really?’ face. “I mean,” she stuttered. “I-my father is very influential in these parts and we - I could arrange for you to be-” Bucky gave her The Eyes. She shut up.

 

“The experience has been…fantastic.” Crystalline was looking somewhat awkward, not knowing quite how to end this. It wasn’t as if she looked like she’d just been professionally fucked or anything, she was just uncomfortable. Okay, she had just been professionally fucked, but the act itself didn’t have anything to do with her discomfort. Her clothes were pristine, her hair was freshly brushed, makeup reapplied, the works. She just didn’t know the etiquette for ending a visit. “Thank you.”

“The time went too quickly.” Again, professionally false sincerity.

“Well, your clock’s probably rigged to speed us up and cheat us out of our fun.” It would’ve been funny had it not been insulting.

Sensing that she’d said something wrong, Crystalline turned and hurried out of the shuttle without another word.

Bucky took a moment to breathe before pulling aside the thick curtains that hid the cockpit of the shuttle. He sat down, flipped a few switches, and turned on the radio. “ _Avenger_ , this is your missing shuttle. What’s your E.T.A.?”

 _“Bucky, hey.”_ Clint’s familiar voice came on over the comms. _“We’re touching down at the Eavesdown Docks in about 10 minutes. Think you could return us your shuttle there?”_

“I guess I wouldn’t mind having a kitchen again. Alright, I’ll join you there soon. Thanks.”

_“Looking forward to it. We missed you out here.”_

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, me too,” he said softly, preparing for takeoff.

 

The docks were a zoo. Hordes of people wandering about, so many, in fact, that there was barely enough room to breathe. The dust being kicked up certainly didn’t help, either. As a kid, this place would have been a death trap for Steve. Now, the dust was just an irritant. The people in the docks were a concern, though not strictly a threat. There were lots of sticky-fingered types about, so it was best to stay on your guard.

Avenger, of course, had no trouble finding a parking spot. The crew walked out as the ramp descended, Steve, Tony, and Clint in the front. The mechanic’s previous negativity had all but been forgotten. Tony was smiling brightly, her hair was braided with bits of gold ribbon, and she was wearing her favorite red jacket over her blue coveralls.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Steve told Tony. “Put us down for departure in about three hours. Clint, grab any supplies we’re low on and fuel ‘er up.” Clint nodded and went back inside.

“I’d sure love to find a brand-new compression coil for the steamer.” Tony pushed her luck. She _really_ needed that part.

No such luck. “Yeah? Well, I’d like to be a legendary hero and prance around in booty shorts. Just get us passengers, Tony. Ones that can pay well, preferably. You know the drill. Next time, okay?”

“If the compression coil busts, we’re drifting. And once we’re stranded out in space, I’ll convince the crew to eat your first.” Tony pouted, entering their travel information on the dock cortex.

“Don’t let it bust, then.” Steve gave Tony a wink and went back to Natasha and Thor, who were standing at the end of the ramp, ready to go.

Just then, Clint re-emerged from the hull, riding on the ATV with the trailer attached. “Tasha,” he called, slightly louder than necessary. She stopped mid-step to face him. “Я серьезно. Мы берем отпуск.”

“We will,” she assured, blowing him a kiss before turning to catch up with Thor and the captain. Clint watched them until the last trace of Natasha’s red hair disappeared.

 

Bruce actually liked places like the docks. People were relatively simple and didn’t ask questions. The police didn’t care much about these people, so they stayed away. Not to mention that the docks were the best place to find crews that don’t care for Hydra and don’t care who you are as long as you’re not. He looked around, smiling at the people being people, but he did keep a firm grip on his suitcases.

“Going on a trip, mate?” s voice asked from behind him. Bruce turned and saw no one, but a hand on his arm made him turn back to the front and see the speaker. A young guy, face and clothes covered in dirt. Not exactly uncommon in these parts, but still. “Looking for a safe passage? We’re cheap.” Ah, a sale. “We’re cheap, we’re clean. The _Brutus_ ,” he pointed to his ship, presumably, an old repurposed cruiseliner. Not really what Bruce was looking for, “It’s the best ship in the ‘verse. What’s your des, mate? Come on. We’re hitting the outer rings.”

“I don’t know you,” was all Bruce said as he began to walk away.

“What?” The kid looked confused.

“You called me mate. Twice. That implies that we’re on a friendly level, if not acquaintances. But I don’t know you.” Bruce kept walking. This one wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. It wouldn’t get him far enough.

 

Steve led the way through the alleys, knowing the way well. Most of the docks were open-air, but if you wanted to talk to someone like Rocket, you had to go inside. Well, inside wasn’t the right word. Into partial covering was more apt. The buildings at the docks were somewhat unassuming, being old repurposed shipping containers organized into a small maze.

Steve nodded to the first guard they passed, keeping his expression neutral but determined. A few turns later, he was standing in a covered clearing of sorts. The guard at the doorway held up a large gun, barring Steve’s path. Rocket’s favorite muscle. Of course.

Inside, Rocket was attending to another customer. “Let me see your teeth.” He told a girl. She stayed still as he pushed back her lips, inspecting. Well aligned, white. “Yes,” He told the nearest goon, who then grabbed her roughly and pushed her through another doorway. Rocket walked towards his desk.

“You’re late,” he chastised, not looking at Steve.

“You’re lying.” the captain bit back easily, stepping past the guard. What was his name? Something with a ‘G’.

“What did you just say to me?” Rocket wasn’t particularly intimidating at first glance, but his reputation made up for that entirely. He was quite short for a man, and his his clothes were of relatively high quality, but it was his face that was his worst feature. He had a long, thin nose and sideburns so big they made Steve cringe. It didn’t help that his brown and salt-and-pepper hair was in a constant disarray and his teeth were yellowed. Really, no one liked to look at Rocket, let alone be around him. But he paid decent, so Steve found himself back in his lair time and time again.

“You’re well aware that we landed two hours before we planned to with all the goods you sent us after. Not to mention that they’re intact and ready to go.” Despite the decent pay, Rocket was an ass and liked to seem better than everyone. “So your decision to get whiny and say we’re late means you’re looking to put us on the defensive right up front. Which means something’s gone wrong.” Steve had played this game before. He knew the rules and he knew the shortcuts. “It didn’t go wrong on our end. So why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?”

“You’re later than I’d like,” Rocket clarified. It wasn’t an answer.

“Well, I’m sorry to inconvenience you with the lateness of my early arrival.” Steve was still really tired. He wasn’t feeling like Rocket’s shit.

“If you’d have gotten here sooner, you would’ve beaten the bulletin that came up saying _“Rogue vessel, classification Firefly, was spotted pulling illegal salvage on a derelict transport”_.”

“It didn’t I.D. us,” Steve countered. “It just said Firefly class. Doesn’t lead to you at all.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Rocket agreed, twiddling his thumbs. “But a government stamp on every molecule of that cargo just might.”

Natasha turned her head slowly to glare at Steve through her eyelashes. So that’s what he’d been so tense about. The cargo was near unprofitable with those stamps, and he’d been hoping to slip it by Rocket.

“Oh. You noticed that,” Rocket mocked, seeing the way Steve’s eyes pointed downward. “You were gonna hand over imprinted goods and just let me deal? Is that really what you think of me?”

“We didn’t pick the cargo. You did.” Steve clenched his jaw, meeting Rocket’s beady eyes again.

That may be the case, but I didn’t flash my tight little ass at the law, did I? There’s no deal.”

“That’s not fair.” Natasha spoke evenly, stating a fact.

Rocket turned a bored gaze to her. “Crime and politics, little girl. The situation is always fluid.”

“The only fluid I see here is the лужа мочи backing out on his word.” Thor growled. Rocket’s goons cocked their guns at the malice. Thor had made a grab for his own gun, but a look from Steve had him shoving it back in the holster.

Steve smiled comfortingly, taking a few steps forward. “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. You can still unload those goods, that much I know. Now I’m wondering what else is at work here that’s making you back out on me.”

“What were you in the war?” Rocket asked, diverting the conversation. “That big war you failed to win.” Rocket stood up and got uncomfortably close to Steve. “You were a Sergeant, right? Sergeant Steven Grant Rogers.” Rocket moved into the center of the room, giving the impression of authority. “Balls and bayonets brigade; the big tough veteran.” He met Natasha’s steely green eyes, knowing she fought alongside him. “Now you’ve got yourself a ship and you’re a captain.” This was Rocket’s favorite game: rile up the people. And he was damn good at hitting Steve’s nerves. “Only I think you’re still a soldier, see. Still a Sergeant. A man of honor in a den of thieves. Well, this is _my_ goddamn den, and I don’t like the way you look down on me.” It wasn’t exactly Steve’s fault that he had the better part of a foot on Rocket. “I’m above you, better than. I’m a businessman, see?” He pointed to his sloppily done paisley tie. “Roots in the community. And you, you’re just a scavenger.”

Steve wasn’t gonna let the raccoon shake him, not this time. “Well, maybe I’m not a,” he looked at Rocket’s slightly shabby but costly clothes, “ _fancy_ gentleman quite like you are, but I do business. We’re here for business.”

“Try one of the border planets.” Rocket grinned, showing off his disgusting, decaying teeth. “They’re much more desperate there. Of course, they might kill you. But if you stay here, I just _know_ Hydra will track you down.” The threat was clear.”

Steve walked out, trying to get in the last word. “Wheel never stops turning, Rocket,” he called over his shoulder.

“That only matters to the people on the rim.”

 

Tony didn’t mind sitting out, even if she wasn’t getting her part. She had her chair and her parasol, plus she got to people-watch. Ever since she was little, Tony had loved just sitting and watching people go by. It helped her relax and clear her mind. Today, of course, she couldn’t be too clear. She had to look out for potential passengers.

A man dragging a suitcase stopped a few yards from where Tony was sitting and inspected the ship. She’d had her eye on him, and only partially because he was cute. The man was dressed slightly nicer than the rest of the people there, with only minutely wrinkled - but clean - clothes. His dark hair was curly and a pair of rimless glasses were perched on his nose.

“You’re gonna come with us,” Tony stated confidently, grinning and twirling her parasol.

“I beg your pardon?” the man stammered, caught off guard by her voice.

“You like ships,” Tony explained, as if it were obvious. “You don’t care about the destination. What you care about is the ships, and mine’s the nicest.” _Avenger_ was Tony’s baby, of course she thought it was the nicest. Didn’t mean it wasn’t a fact, too.

“She doesn’t look like much,” the man commented, obviously not meaning it. He just wanted to know what Tony's response would be.

“Oh, she likes to fool you. She’s a clever thing.” Tony definitely liked this man. He smiled at her, probably thinking of her what she thought of him. “You ever sailed in a Firefly?” It was her gentle voice, the one she used on scared kids and her father, towards the end. It was calming and comforting, and when paired with a smile, it made the whole world better. Or so Tony had been told.

“Long time ago.” He smiled at a memory she couldn’t see. “Not an aught three, though. Didn’t have the extenders.” He pointed at the machinery attached. “Tended to shake.”

Tony was _so_ sold on this guy. She stood up, grinning. “So, uh,” She pointed the parasol down, coming closer to him, “How come you don’t care where you’re going?”

“The journey’s much more rewarding. That, and I’ve got nowhere in particular to be.”

“Are you a missionary?” Tony asked suspiciously. The only other people she’d met like that were missionaries. Missionaries and crooks. But he was way too dorky and adorable to be a crook.

“No, no.” He laughed. “Just someone looking to get away.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m a travelling physician, at the moment.” He admitted. “Just looking to take my services wherever they may be needed.” The man put down one of his suitcases and extended his hand. “The name’s Bruce. Bruce Banner.” Tony shook his hand firmly.

“Well, I’m Tony, and this here’s _Avenger_ ,” She pointed at the ship, “But I like to call her Avvie. Just not when the captain’s around.” She joked, leaning in conspiratorially. “And she’s the smoothest ride from here to Boreas for anyone who can pay. You can, right? Pay?” Tony was suddenly a little flushed.

“Well, I got some cash, and uh,” he picked a small wooden box from his stack of them on the troller he’d been dragging, handing it to Tony.

She opened the lid and her green eyes widened. Her pupils may have even dilated, she was so happy. “Oof. Bud, you can stay as long as you like.”

Bruce was going so make a comment about the ‘bud’, but decided against it. He liked this girl.

 

Steve and the other two crewmembers wove their way back through the crowds, heading towards the ship. Thor was grumbling, complaining about how Rocket had double-crossed them and how they should’ve taken action.

“No matter how strong you and Cap are, we couldn’t have taken on all of Rocket’s men. We’d be dead if we tried anything, Thor,” Natasha interrupted. “And I don’t know about you, but I like all my parts attached.”

“Even if we had perished, we would be remembered as warriors,” the Asgardian argued.

“We’d be a cautionary tale. And if we were gone, who would keep the crew flying? Clint? He’s my husband, but he’s not exactly leadership material.” Knowing she was right, Thor didn’t argue. He kept grumbling, but Nat and Steve ignored him.

“So we find a buyer on Boreas,” Natasha started, “There’s gotta be-”

Steve shook his head. “Boreas is too big. It’ll be crawling with Hydra, and they could be waiting for us.”

“You really think Rocket would sell us out the the feds?” Natasha knew it could go either way.

“If he hasn’t already.” Steve voiced both their concerns.

“If Hydra catches us with government goods, we’ll lose the ship.”

“That’s never gonna happen.” That kind of negativity is where Steve drew the line. No one in the ‘verse was gonna take his ship from him.

“Steve, we could just dump the cargo.”

“I would not advise it,” Thor commented, butting into the conversation. “We have not had a job for weeks, and while sightseeing is pleasant, it does not pay wages.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t know that? The last two jobs we had covered the bare necessities. We’ve got no savings, and taking on passengers won’t be much help in the grand scheme of things. If we don’t get paid for this cargo, we can’t fuel the ship. And the ship is our priority. Understood? I’m not leaving her - or us, for that matter - dead in the water.”

Natasha considered their options. “Should we do like Rocket said? Hit the border planets?”

Steve nodded. “I’m thinking Whitefall. Maybe talk to Sitwell.”

“Cap, we don’t want to deal with Sitwell again.” Almost anyone but Sitwell was tolerable by Natasha’s standards.

“Why not?” Steve was playing oblivious. They were getting desperate, and some things just had to be let lie when it came down to desperation.

“He shot you.”

“Well, yeah.. Still, I’m alive, aren’t I? What’s the harm?”

“ _No_. We find somebody else. Dugan.”

“Old boy can’t afford it. I love him to death, but this is above him.”

“Summers boys.”

“They wouldn’t touch it.” Steve laughed dryly. “You want me to go through the list? Joneses are brain-blown. Erskine’s dead.”

“He’s dead?” Natasha was surprised by this.

“Town got hit by Chitauri. Burned it right down.”

Thor tensed, unconsciously reaching for his gun. “I refuse to go anywhere near Chitauri territory. Those beasts are beyond humanity.”

“Yeah, you and everybody else, Thor,” Steve grunted before turning back to Natasha. “Whitefall is the safest and it’s closest. It’s been a good while since Sitwell shot me, and that was just a conflict of interest. I’ve got no grudge against him. Besides, he owns half that damn moon now. Sitwell’s got the cash, Nat. Hell, he might even need the cargo.”

“I still don’t think that weasel’s the way.” Someone had to contradict Steve.

“Nat, I’m not saying it’s ideal, but we don’t have much other choice.” The trio came out from between more ‘buildings’ to the clearing where _Avenger_ stood. Clint had already returned with the supplies they needed, and was loading the luggage of their passengers.

Tony was greeting one of the passengers. “Welcome aboard, mister-?”

“Batroc,” he supplemented.

“Batroc,” Tony echoed, waving him in.

“We’ve just gotta keep our heads down, do the job, and pray there aren’t any more surprises.” Steve got up next to Tony on the ramp and ruffled her plaited hair. He looked across the ramp as Clint drove by with a large crate on the trailer. As it got out of the way, it revealed a young man standing opposite Steve. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, was wearing a high-quality suit, had curly dark brown hair slicked back, and was wearing a round pair of blue-tinted glasses. The neutral expression made him actually kind of creepy.

“Please be careful with that,” the boy called after Clint in a slightly accented voice.

“Steve, this is Pietro,” Tony introduced. “Pietro, this is our captain.”

He nodded. “Captain Rogers,”

Steve gave him a brief up-and-down. “Welcome aboard,” he said blandly before heading inside. “This all we got?” He verified with Tony, who nodded.

In the hull, Steve and Natasha leaned against the stairwell, watching the crew and passengers unloading.

“Now we’ve got a boatload of passengers right on top of our stolen cargo.” Nat gave him a wry smile. “Isn’t that a fun mix.”

“There’s no way in hell they could find that compartment,” Steve assured, “Even if-” He paused while Batroc walked by, “Even if they were looking for it.” He finished, whispering slightly.

“Why not?” Steve stammered at her. “Oh yeah,” she sighed, “This is gonna go great.”

“Well, you know, if anyone gets _too_ nosy, just…shoot ‘em.” Steve shrugged.

“Shoot them?” Natasha was actually smiling at that.

“Politely,” Steve added, climbing the stairs. Natasha shook her head and made a beeline for her husband.

\---

 _“Bucky, just in time.”_ Clint said as Bucky began docking.

“Let me guess, we’re in a hurry.” Unsurprising.

_“Looks like. Starboard hatch is green for docking.”_

Bucky gave the countdown from five as the shuttle slid into place.

 

“The ambassador has returned!” Clint called out into the hall to Natasha, who had just entered. She gave him a thumbs-up and went to find Steve.

“All present and accounted for, Captain,” she called from the top of the stairs.

“Tony, get in! I’m locking it up!” Steve called out.

The mechanic smiled out at the docks one last time. “All aboard,” she said to herself, stepping back as the door began to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'll have part two up very soon, hopefully. I was working on it when I remembered that I had to post this one! Thanks again for reading, and comments and kudos are always appreciated, but if you don't want to do that, I'm very happy to just squeal at the number of hits I have.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> Ебена мать! = holy shit/damn it  
> подтвержаю= I confirm  
> Мне, как всегда, не везет! = I, as always, no luck/just my luck  
> Тихо, пожалуйста = Quiet, please  
> Я серьезно. Мы берем отпуск. = I was serious. We’re taking a holiday.  
> лужа мочи = puddle of piss


	3. Avenger: Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins, and the plot thickens. Also: bullets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone does get shot in this chapter, but they live, and it's not too graphic. There are mentions of torture and cannibalism, but it's only briefly, don't worry. And there is a noticeable amount of swearing in English (because I love to f*cking cuss and so does Steve Rogers), so sorry in advance if that makes you uncomfortable.

“Meals are taken up here in the dining area. Kitchen’s pretty easy and you’re welcome to eat what we anytime, though I must ask that you be considerate of others.” That earned Steve a couple small smiles and even a chuckle.  “What we have is pretty standard: protein in every color of the rainbow.” The passengers, as well as Steve, Natasha, and Tony were standing in a circle in the dining area as Steve gave a run-through of the rules. “We do have sit-down meals, the next one being at 1800.”

“I believe mister Maximoff has offered to help me prepare something.” Tony gestured to Pietro, who nodded minutely. “And using Doctor Banner’s wonderful gifts.” She grinned at Bruce, who gave her a small smile in return.

“You’re a doctor?” Steve asked, surprised.

“The bag didn’t give it away?” He joked. “I’ve had a few different jobs over the years, but I’ve always ended back up with medicine. I’m just trying to do my part.”

Steve nodded. “Alright. Let’s hope we don’t need your services. Now, carrying on. As I said, you’re welcome to visit the dining area any time. The rest of the time, I must ask you stay in your quarters while we’re in the air. The bridge, engine room, and cargo bay are all off-limits without an escort, no exceptions.”

“Some of my personal effects are in the cargo bay.” Pietro protested.

“I figured you’ve all got luggage you’re gonna need to get into.” Steve reassured him, giving a nod to Clint as he entered the room silently. “And as soon as we’re done here, we’ll be more than happy to lead you down and let you get them. Now,” he pushed off of the counter he was leaning against, “I do have one other thing to tell you, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, we’ve been ordered by Hydra to drop off some medical supplies on Whitefall. It’s the fourth moon on Athens. It’s a little out of our way, but we should have you all on Boreas no more than a day off schedule.”

“What medical supplies?” Banner asked, curious.

Steve gave him a hard look. “I honestly didn’t ask.”

“Probably just plasma, insulin,” Natasha supplemented, not wanting there to be tension. “Whatever it is they don’t have enough of on the border moons.”

“Hydra says jump…” Steve gave him a ‘you know’ look.

Bruce nodded hesitantly. “Right.”

Steve turned back to his right hand. “Natasha, you want to take them to the cargo bay?”

“Sure, Cap. Everyone, follow me.” She headed towards the door, passengers and Tony trailing behind.

“Anything you need, just ask.” Steve told them. “We’re here to help.”

Steve and Clint went the opposite way, back towards the cockpit. “Did you sent word to Sitwell?”

Clint nodded. “Haven’t heard back yet. Hey, didn’t he shoot you one time?”

Steve stared at his friend in disbelief. “It was one time, and I’m over it. Still in one piece.”

“I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to say that.”

“You trying to jinx me?”

“I was just thinking that it’d be cute if you and Bucky had matching prosthetics.”

Steve slugged him in the arm. Hard.

 

Pietro was carefully placing items in a bag, never taking his eyes off of that huge silver container of his. Batroc bumped into him and immediately started apologizing profusely. Natasha made sure to keep a close eye on them, nodding to Banner as he walked past, holding a small wooden box and a burlap sack. He headed up the stairs to the landing and handed them over to Tony, who gave that same bright smile of hers she’d been giving all day. Down below, Batroc oofed as he tripped on the doorway heading to his room, laden with bags. Steve shook his head. Batroc was one of those men that had way more mass than they knew what do with.

Up above, Bucky stepped out of a hall. His long hair was down and slightly damp and he was dressed in a tight-fitting long sleeved patterned black and red shirt that was probably worth more than Steve’s kidney and light brown slacks. As usual, he was barefoot and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about it. Unlike usual, however, his prosthetic was both still attached and he was wearing the sleeve (or at least just the glove) that gave it the appearance of a real arm.

“Ah, the ambassador graces us with his presence.” Steve greets, following Bucky with his eyes as he goes down the stairs to their landing.

“Good to see you too, Steve. I see we’ve got company.” Bucky smiles at Banner in greeting.

“Hey, you.” Tony said, wiggling her fingers in a wave.

“Hey, you.” Bucky echoed, pinching her nose lightly.

“Ambassador, this is Doctor Banner.” Steve introduces him. From down below, Pietro stops his gathering and watches the scene up above.

“I have to say, this is the first time we’ve had a doctor on board. No offence, but I sincerely hope we won’t be needing your services.”

Tony giggled. “That’s exactly what Steve said.” Steve coughs into his hand, ears turning slightly pink.

Bruce ignored the comment. “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to see a state official here either.” He extended his hand (thankfully Banner’s left), not seeing the way Bucky’s face falls. “Ambassador.” He does, however, notice how Steve fidgets uncomfortably. “Is there something I’m missing here?”

“Are you gonna tell him or should I?” Tony asked the captain, grinning amusedly.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Steve waves her off. “Bu-James is essentially our ambassador, though he isn’t technically a ‘state official’, as you say.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Steve made a point to look anywhere but at Bucky. “There’s a lot of planets who wouldn’t let you dock without a decent Companion on board. We happen to have a first-rate one.”

“Speaking of which, how’s business?” Tony asked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

“None of yours,” Bucky pulled on her braid lightly, resulting in a yelp and a smack on the chest. “Careful, Antonia. Don’t damage the goods. I thought you’d know all about that on this ship.”

Steve cleared his throat loudly, bringing the two of them back to the moment. “This won’t be a problem, will it, doctor?”

Bruce stammered for a few seconds. “Oh, no, not at all. It’s just a bit of a surprise, is all.”

“I mostly keep to myself anyways, don’t worry.” Bucky gave that fake genuine smile that Steve hated. He much preferred the real Bucky, not that he would ever tell him that.

Tony grabbed the Companion by the flesh arm and dragged him up the stairs with her. “Don’t you wanna meet the rest of the gang?” Steve asks.

“Only if they want to meet me.” Is the response, not even bothering to stop or turn.

“So how many fell madly in love and wanted to steal you away from me?” Tony asked as they ascended.  
“If I’m honest, they were all pretty infatuated-”

“No surprise there.”

Bucky laughed. “But only two actually offered. I think I’m slipping.” Steve pretended he couldn’t hear a word they were saying. It was easier that way.

“I don’t care as long as you keep your hair long enough for me to braid.”

“Why is it always mine? Why can’t it be Natasha, or even Thor?”

“Because Thor doesn’t love me as much as you do and the only person allowed close to Nat’s hair is Clint.”

“She’s not wrong.” Natasha called up, overhearing their conversation.

Bucky laughed again. “It’s good to be back.”

 

Everyone around the table was singing praises about the home-cooked meal Tony and Pietro had made with Bruce’s vegetables. People were torn between shoveling as much on as they could and saving some for seconds. In reality, they settled for piling their plates as much as they could while still being considerate of others.

“This is amazing, Doctor.” Thor complimented, tipping his glass towards Bruce.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I didn’t even do the cooking.”

“True, but veggies aren’t easy to come by. Particularly not ones these big and yummy.” Tony insisted.

“They were a gift really. Payment, I suppose. A nun at the abbey fell and broke her leg, and the wound got infected. I treated and set her leg, and as thanks they let me pick from the garden. I’m not really much of a cook, but they’re so good for you I couldn’t refuse.”

Natasha excused herself, going off to bring Clint a plate and inquire about Bucky joining them for dinner.

“Is that how you doctors pick out your meals?” Batroc asked amusedly.

“No, not at all. Trust me, I’ve spent my fair share of time eating frozen and packaged foods. They won’t kill you, but it’s nice to have something genuine, you know?”

“Don’t I know it.” Steve muttered, taking a bite of tomato.

“Packaged food’s really not so bad. It’s all in the spices, if you ask me,” Tony piped up. “My old man used to always say, “A man could live on packaged food from now ‘til Judgement Day as long as he’s got enough rosemary”. I never quite understood why he would say that, seeing as he was allergic to rosemary,” the people around the table cracked up at hearing that, “but you get the point.”

“Your father sounds like an interesting guy.” Batroc commented. He was an awkward klutz, but he was kind and had a nice smile. His resting face, however, was even scarier than Clint’s, which Steve hadn’t thought was possible.

“He definitely was,” Tony agreed through a mouthful of food. “But I guess between the two of us there was never a dull moment.”

“If your dad was anything like you-” Bucky was standing in the doorway, having traded the long-sleeved shirt for a large faded brown sweater (which looked suspiciously like one of Steve’s that had gone missing). He was still wearing the sleeve, as both the hands sticking out were human-looking. Steve smiled at him and held up a plate, which the Companion gladly took and began to fill with food. “If your dad was anything like you, Tony, I have no doubts about the statement.” Bucky carefully sat down in Natasha’s vacated seat next to Steve.

Tony laughed at him. “My whole life, people were telling me how alike we are. Apparently from the day I was born, people were telling Dad that I was like him in every possible way. Drove me up the walls. Wanted to be my own person, you know?”

“The same except that you’re a woman, of course.” Batroc added. Tony shifted uncomfortably, giving him a fake smile.

“So does it happen a lot?” Pietro asked, sensing the tension in the room. “The government commandeering your ship, telling you where to go.”

“Well, that’s what governments are for.” Steve said with a shrug. “Getting in the way, supposedly for the greater good.”

“Well, it’s good if the supplies are needed.” Bucky countered. He didn’t know the details, but he sure as hell knew they weren’t doing any charity work. Of course, he wasn’t going to raise a fuss around passengers.

“We are always glad to extend help to those in need.” Thor clarified, taking a swig from his mug.

“I hear most of the border moons are in bad shape,” Batroc said.. “Plagues and bad famine.”

“There’s no such thing as a good famine,” Natasha pointed out, pulling up a chair between Bucky and Thor. “And as far as what you’ve heard, some of it’s exaggerated and some of it’s the truth. All of those moons, just like the central planets, they’re as close to Earth-that-was as we can get them. Gravity, atmosphere and all, but once they’re terraformed-”

“They’ll dump settlers on there,” Steve interjected, “with nothing but blankets, hatchets. A herd, if they’re lucky. Some of them make it. Others…” His silence spoke volumes.

“Then I guess it’s good we’re helping.” Pietro concluded.

“You said you were a doctor, among other things.” Tony changed the subject, addressing Bruce. “Where did you study?”

“I studied at the Osirian University, in Capital City. I’ve got regular medical and surgical training, but for a while I specialized in cancer research, and that led to studying gamma radiation.”

“Osiris is a long way from here.” Bucky noted, swiping a piece of food off of Steve’s plate. It earned him a glare, but he ignored it.

“You don’t really seem like the doctor type, though.” Tony insisted. “I’ve spent more than my fair share of time around doctors, and I can tell you that they carry a specific aura. You, though…you’re different. You seem more like a bookworm than a medicine man.”

“I’ve found you can be both. And personally, I think your generalization of doctors is a little unfair. The training’s all similar, yes, but everyone has a different approach.”

Tony hummed. “Maybe I’ve just never met your kind of doctor, then.”

“The central planets are hugely different from where you were raised. It would only make sense for there to be a difference.” Thor said, finally coming up for air after practically inhaling his food.

“Thor.” Steve interrupted. “Since you’re the first one done, do you mind taking on sentry duty?”

“Not at all, captain.” The Asgardian stood up, wiping the corners of his mouth and waving to the crew before departing.

“Despite his size, he’s basically a puppy dog.” Bucky laughed, taking a sip of his water as Thor went out of earshot

“What exactly is his job?” Pietro asked.

Steve faltered, a slice of tomato halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“His job. Aboard the ship. What is it?”

“Public relations,” Not technically a lie.

“Would have thought that was my job.” Bucky was practically purring in Steve’s ear. _Damn him_ . “Seeing as I’m the _ambassador_.”

Steve turned his head enough to meet the other man’s stormy eyes and cheshire grin. “I don’t pay you.” He stated plainly before turning back to his food.

\---

Steve splashed a minute amount of cold water on his face. God, did he need a nap. _Soon_ , he assured himself, _right after everyone goes to sleep, so can I._ He was staring at his bed consideringly, wondering if he could at least doze for a while before something else came up.

The intercom chose that moment to buzz, of course. _“Steve, you’re gonna want to see this.”_  Clint’s voice came through.

Without hesitating, Steve headed for the ladder and climbed up, jogging the few meters from his cabin to the cockpit. “What is it?”

Clint was leaning over the control panel, looking distressed. The sound of radio chatter was all around. “A signal. Somebody hailed a nearby Hydra cruiser on the cortex.”

“Tell me you scrambled it.”

“Like morning eggs and as fast as I could. Problem is, I don’t know how much got through. More likely than not, Hydra’s got a lock on us.”

“Возьмите все планеты во Вселенной, и засунуть их мою задницу.” Steve swore.

“We’ve got a mole on board.” Like Steve hadn’t already figured that, but someone had to say it.

 

Down in the cargo bay, Pietro had just finished inspecting his large crate. It was still intact and the contents were still safe. He turned and stopped suddenly, seeing the captain standing in front of him, blue eyes smoldering. “Forget your toothpaste?” He snarls before socking Pietro in the jaw.

“Are you crazy?” He asks, cradling his cheek.

“Depends on who you ask.” Steve admitted. “Now, what’d you tell them?”

“Tell who?” Pietro didn’t know what he was talking about, but the situation was getting worse by the second.

Steve drew his gun and pointed the barrel at Pietro. “I don’t have time for this. What do they know?”

“You’re definitely crazy.”

The gun cocked. “And you’re Hydra.”

“I hate to say it, Captain,” Bruce came out of nowhere, striding deliberately but confidently, tucking his glasses into his shirt pocket, “But you’ve got the wrong man.”

Steve’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. It couldn’t be Banner. Just as he started to doubt himself, Steve saw Banner turn his gaze upwards. He and turned and saw Batroc, standing on the opposite side of the cargo bay, holding a gun steady. “Son of a bitch.” Steve muttered.

“Drop the firearm, Captain Rogers” Batroc commanded. Steve did as he was told. No use fighting the feds. His gun was on the ground, his hands were up, and he seriously needed that nap.

Yeah, this was definitely not Steve’s best day ever. Not even close.

Batroc turned his gun towards Pietro. “Pietro Maximoff, you are bound by law to stand down or be fired upon.” The kid raised his arms, face deathly pale.

“What?” Steve was confused. Was this not about the stolen goods? He pointed to the young man. “The kid. Oh.” He dropped his arms, putting on a much friendlier demeanor. “This is just a misunderstanding, then. There wouldn’t happen to be a reward for him, would there?” Money. Very important.

Batroc ignored him. “Get on the ground.” He snapped at Pietro. The kid didn’t move. “Get on the ground!” He repeated, this time more forcefully, taking a few steps forward.

“Officer, you’re making a mistake.” Pietro protested.

“You better get on the ground, son.” Steve warned. “He’s looking a bit twitchy to me.”

“I think everyone could stand to calm down a bit.” Bruce began to walk towards them, trying to play peacekeeper.

“This isn’t your place, doc.” The agent snarled.

“He’s got nowhere to go, officer. And it’s not exactly toasty outside.”

“Oh, that’s an easy fix,” The gears in Steve’s head had long since started turning. “We could easily put our friend here in one of the passenger cells. Wouldn’t make a sound.” Steve started to move towards his gun.

“Get away from that!” Batroc pointed the gun at him. “Do you think I was born yesterday? You’re carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders.” Steve opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted. “And do you think I _honestly_ believe you’re bringing medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I care, everyone on this ship is at fault.”

“Well, then,” He deadpanned, “That has an effect on the atmosphere, doesn’t it?”

“Please, everyone. We’re getting dangerously close to something awful happening.” Bruce pleaded.

Batroc laughed dryly. “I’ve got a cruiser en route for intercept; talk all you want, doc. You’ve got about twenty minutes.”

“Might have less than that.” Steve disagreed.

“Yeah, go ahead and threaten me.” The officer spat.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Bruce was dangerously close to Batroc, who chose that moment to turn the gun on him.

“You think I wouldn’t shoot a doctor? Back off!” There was a mad gleam in Batroc’s eyes, and mixed with the gun and his sheer size, it didn’t make for a pretty picture.

“Just take him and leave.” Steve pushed Pietro towards Batroc.

“Get your hands off me!” Pietro cried, just as Batroc yelled at them to stand down again. Bruce made one last valiant effort to be peacekeeper before Tony came into the cargo bay from behind them, Thor a few feet behind.

“What’s going o-” Was all she managed to get out before Batroc turned and shot her in the chest. She went down immediately, face frozen in fear. She looked down at the blood spilling from right below her clavicle. “Wha-?”

Everyone in the room was still, too fearful and shocked to do move. The stillness was broken when Bucky’s cry of “Tony!” came from the landing above and he began to rush toward her. Steve dove for his gun, Thor came in with his raised, and Bruce managed to land two solid punches to Batroc’s face and another to his gut.

Once the fed went down, Bruce rushed over to Tony, who was already with Steve and Bucky. Thor stood guard on the officer’s unconscious body.

Bruce unzipped Tony’s blue coveralls and inspected the wound. Her undershirt was quite ruined, even more so when Banner ripped it to get a better look at the wound.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Steve reassured, squeezing Tony’s hand. “I’ve had mosquito bites worse than that.” Bucky grimaced at him, knowing how much of a lie that was.

“Big mosquito bite,” Tony slurred.

Natasha had come down with rope and was helping Thor tie up Batroc.

“Tony, stay with me.” Banner spoke loudly. “Hey, hey, stay with me. Tony, can you move your feet?”

“You asking me to dance?” Tony’s voice was just as slurred as before, but now it was slow on top of that.

“She’s going into shock,” Was the only response he gave.

“зайка, you have to focus.” Bucky stroked her hair. Tony cried out suddenly, and Steve tightened his grip on her hand.

“Is the infirmary working?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, we’ve got it stocked.” Steve barely spared him a glance.

 _“Captain, we’ve been hailed by a cruiser and ordered to stay on course and prepare for prisoner transfer.”_ Clint’s voice came through the P.A.

It was at that moment that Steve remembered Pietro. He was standing a few feet away, looking twitchy and scared. Bruce, seeing him as well, stood up and took a half step back. “Change course.” He said to Steve.

“Run.” Pietro added.

“To hell with you.” Steve growled. “You brought this down on us, I’m dumping you with the law. And as for you, doctor, what the hell is this about? You know what a wound like this does to people! She’s dying!”

“Yes, I do know.” Banner agreed evenly. “So you know that the next few minutes are crucial. But I won’t be able to do a damn thing if you don’t change course.”

“You’re not gonna let her die.” Steve’s vision was turning red. Sensing this, Bucky put his prosthetic arm (the hologram was gone) on the captain’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Yes, he is.” Pietro affirmed.

“You can’t.” Steve stood up, jaw clenched.

“No way the feds will let us walk.” Natasha added, having finished tying up Rumlow. “They would maybe, _maybe_ fix up Tony, but they’d take her into custody with the rest of us after.

“Then we can dump Pietro in a shuttle and leave him to the dogs.”

“Everybody’s so mad.” Tony whispered.

“It’s okay, baby.” Bucky reassured, shooting a worried glance at the rest of the room.

“You let her die, we’ll dump you out with Maximoff.” Natasha told Bruce, eyes smoldering. “Or, better yet, we don’t even give you a shuttle.” He winced. “Why are you even defending him? We don’t know what he did.” She gave Pietro a once-over. “But a rich kid like him, he probably killed his parents for the family fortune.”

“I don’t kill people.” Pietro protested.

“But _he_ does.”

“I haven’t yet. And I won’t have to if you change course.”

“I’m kinda feeling like not doing that.” Steve wasn’t thinking straight. He was angry and scared and he felt powerless.

“Steve, do it!” Bucky stood up, his eyes pleading. “We can talk about this later, but right now, Tony’s _life_ is the priority.”

“Don’t you tell me what to-” Steve was cut off by a pained sob from Tony. He clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and looked Bruce in the eyes. “Natasha, change course.” He ordered, not looking away.

The doctor immediately crouched back down. “Help me get her up.”

Natasha hit the intercom. “Clint, change course and go for hard burn.” She grimaced at the sight of a bleeding Tony being half dragged out of the cargo bay. “We’re running.”

 

Bucky pulled open the door to the infirmary right as Bruce and Steve came by, carrying Tony. They set her down gently and Bruce immediately went to work figuring out where everything was. “Do you have an extractor?” He asked, cleaning his hands.

“We’ve got a laser saw.” Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Tony’s face. It was growing paler by the second.

“No, that’s not good enough.” He pointed to Bucky. “In my room, green bag.” Bucky sprinted off.

“When this is over, you, me, and Maximoff are gonna be having a nice long chat.”

“And I’m sure it will be great fun for all of us.” He bit back, handing Steve a hypo. “Dope her.” Steve carefully but quickly injected the drugs into the side of Tony’s neck, stroking her dark hair as she tensed at the brief pain and then drifted off into sleep.

They gave Banner some assistance while he took the bullet, as Steve and Bucky were glued to Tony’s side, stealing glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking. Tony looked peaceful, almost like she was in a regular sleep. The wires attached to her monitoring her vitals ruined the image. She’d been extremely fortunate that the bullet hadn’t hit her heart. According to Bruce, if it had gone a few centimeters to the left, she would have been dead almost immediately. It was both a relief and a very obnoxious thing to hear. The whole time, Pietro had been sitting quietly in a corner, per Steve’s orders, so that he could be closely watched. Except for the few occasions that Bruce had him hold something or give him a hand.

“I can’t do anything else until she stabilizes.” Bruce informed them, peeling off the gloves and apron.

“Will she?”

“I can’t say. Not yet.”

“I want to know what’s going on.” Bucky demanded, worrying the sleeves of his sweater (which, by the way, was still actually Steve’s, as it was too cheap to be anything a first-class Companion would have. Why he had it was a mystery).

“Well, then, why don’t we find out.” Steve turned and strode out of the infirmary, heading for the cargo bay.

“What are you-no!” Pietro jumped up and chased after the captain, fearing the worst. Bucky and Bruce trailed behind, curious.

“Stay away from that!” Pietro begged as he was restrained by Thor. He clearly took no joy in holding Pietro back, but it was necessary.

“Where’s Batroc?” Steve asked, dragging Pietro’s fancy crate out of the corner and into full view.

“I made sure he’s out cold.” Natasha reported, coming down the stairs with Clint on her heels. “Even if he does wake up, there’s no way he’s getting free. Not on his own.”

Steve turned the locks on the crate and pulled the lever that released the lid. The crate beeped electronically as the lid loosened, releasing wisps of white smoke. “Well. Let’s see what you’ve been hiding, huh?”

“Wait, don’t!” Pietro screamed as Steve kicked the lid backwards.

Steve squinted, trying to see through the thick fog. Thor, still holding Pietro, stepped closer as well, trying to get a look. Steve stared in disbelief at what he saw once it cleared: a girl. A young, naked girl, curled up in the fetal position, cradled by white padding. Well, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. Steve looked back and forth between the girl and Pietro, trying to think of what to say. All he could muster was “Huh,”.

“I need to check on her, read her vitals.” Pietro insisted, struggling against Thor’s grip.

“Oh, is that what they call it?” Steve wasn’t buying it.

“Please, she’s not supposed to wake up for another week. The shock-”

“The shock of what?” He interrupted. “Waking up? Finding she’s been sold to some border-world baron?” Pietro clenched his jaw, clearly upset by his words. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was this one supposed to be yours? Is it true love?” Wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened, unfortunately. “Because you do seem a little-”

Steve was interrupted mid-mock by a scream from behind him. The girl had woken up. She was looking around frantically, half-gasping and half screaming. Steve backed away in surprise. She pulled herself out of the container and plopped onto the floor, looking around at everything in terror and trembling. Pietro wrestled his way out of Thor’s grasp and ran over to her. Bucky pulled off the sweater, which was huge on him, a six-foot mountain of muscle, and held it anxiously, ready to offer it to the girl.

“Wanda…” Pietro carefully grabbed her shoulders as she continued to hyperventilate. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Look, I’m here. It’s all okay.”

She frowned at him until recognition dawned upon her face. “Pietro,” she whispered, searching his face. Her features twisted from calm to panicked, looking like she was about to cry. “Pietro, they keep talking and talking, and they won’t stop!” She brought shaking hands up to her temples. “They’re everywhere, and _so loud_. They want me to- They want me to-”

“Shh, shh. They’re gone, they’re gone.” He cradled her face as she began to sob. “You’re safe now, Wanda. They’re all gone, I promise. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” He pulled her in close and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, still sobbing.

The crew stood partially in shock and partially in pity. With the exception of Steve, of course. “What the hell is this?” He demanded

Pietro turned his head towards him slowly, the picture of distress. “This is my sister.”

\---

“By any standards, I am very smart.” Pietro began. “I taught myself six languages by the time I was twelve, I have always, without fail, been in the top three percent of my class. I was accepted into the top medical institution in Osiris at a young age - I was the youngest ever, in fact - and had I stayed, I would have gotten my degree in a third of the time it took the average medical student. I’ve beaten international records in cross-country and track across three different planets. “Gifted”, they call it.” He took a deep breath, looking at the unimpressed faces around the room. “I’m telling you this because when I say my twin sister makes me look like an idiot child and can run metaphorical circles around me, I want you to understand what I’m saying. Wanda was more than gifted. She was…a gift. And she was my other half. She is.”

After Wanda had calmed down enough, Bucky had given the sweater to Pietro, who had gladly pulled it over her head. From there, he led her into the infirmary, where he lay her down on a spare cot and gave her a sedative. She had made a face at the needle, but didn’t object. Shortly after, she drifted off into sleep, smiling at her brother peacefully. The moment she was out, however, Steve grabbed Pietro by the arm roughly and dragged him up to the dining area for a crew meeting.

“Everything she ever did. Music, math, theoretical physics, chemistry, even dance. It all came as naturally to her as breathing does to us. She was never a brat about it, though. Too sweet for that. Well, too sweet to do it around me. But, uh,” He stumbled for a moment. “There was a school; a government-funded academy. It was one we had never heard of, but it had the most exciting program - the most challenging. She could’ve been sent anywhere, our father is influential enough, but she wanted to go. We had just turned 15.” He choked slightly. “I couldn’t bear the idea of being away from her. She didn’t like it either, but it was what she wanted. The first two years were fine. She wrote letters all the time, so did I. She came home for holidays and summer vacation, so I did get  time with her. But then, once I started university, something changed. The academy - it was more than a high school. I mean, it was, but it went farther for students that wanted to. And Wanda wanted to. The first semester, I got a few letters and then nothing for a couple months. No calls, nothing on the cortex. Complete radio silence. And then one day, I get a letter that would’ve made no sense to anyone else. But Wanda, like I said, is my other half. I knew what her babblings meant.” A few of them furrowed their brows. “It was a code.” Pietro clarified. “It just said…” He took a shaky breath, eyes watering. “It said: They’re hurting us. Get me out. I need to get out”

“How’d you do it?” Natasha asked.

“Money. And a few strokes of luck. For almost three years, I couldn’t get anywhere near her. Then, I was contacted by some people who were part of an underground movement. They confirmed that she _was_ in danger, that the government was…playing with her brain as if it were a toy. As if it weren’t a part of a human being. They said that if I funded them, they could sneak her out in cryostasis, get her to me in Melinoe, and from there I could take her wherever.”  
“Will she be alright?” Bucky was fairly uncomfortable, standing amongst strangers in a tank top with his metal arm fully exposed, but he did his best to push it aside, instead focusing on what Pietro’s story.

“In honesty, I don’t know. I don’t know what they did to her and why, and I don’t know if she’ll be alright. I just know that I have to keep her safe. She’s the other half of my soul and she’s my responsibility.”

“That is…quite a story, Pietro.” Thor admitted.

“I’m with you on that.” Clint agreed. “Very stirring tale of woe, I‘m not gonna lie. But that doesn’t change the fact that you heaped a shitload of trouble onto us.”

“I never thought-”

“No, don’t worry. No one here thinks you _thought_.” Steve interrupted. “And as consequence, we’ve got a kidnapped federal officer on board, Hydra hard on our tail, and Tony-”

“How much does Hydra know?” Natasha asked.

“I can’t say.” Clint rubbed a hand across his face. “I killed the message pretty quick, so they may just have had our position.”

“Or they may have personal profiles on every single one of us.” The captain countered. “Until that fed wakes up, we won’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Thor asked, eyes sad but determined.

Steve looked at Bucky, then back at Thor. “The job. We finish the job. I got word from Sitwell; he’s waiting for us. We circle round to Whitefall, make the deal, get out, and keep flying.” The crew nodded solemnly.

“What about us?” Pietro asked.

Steve turned to face him, eyes hard. “Tony comes through, you and your sister get off at Whitefall.”

“If she doesn’t come through?”

“Well, then you’re getting off a bit sooner.”

“That would be murder.” Bruce objected. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, having just come up from the infirmary and heard the tail end of the conversation.

“He made a decision. Wasn’t a good one. Life is tough. End of story.”

“He didn’t shoot her.” Bucky protested.

“No, he did not,” Thor agreed, “but another man did, and it still puzzles me why we have yet to deal with him properly.”

“Kill a fed?” Natasha looked at him in disbelief. “Can you think of a stupider thing to do?”

“He has the means to identify us.”

“You want to throw me out the airlock, go ahead.” Pietro piped up. “But Wanda isn’t a part of this.”

“Can we maybe vote on the whole ‘murdering people’ thing?” Clint asked, sensing the ever-growing tension.

“We don’t vote on my ship because my ship is not the fucking town hall and this is not a democracy.” Steve declared through gritted teeth.

“This is insanity,” Bucky cried.

“I happen to think we’re a bit beyond that, _sir_.” Clint remarked. He turned to his wife. “Tell him we’re gonna talk this through, yeah?”

“I’m not going to sit by while there’s killing.” Bruce decided, overlapping with the pilot.

All the voices in the room then began to overlap to the point of gibberish. Steve called for silence in Russian, and the room fell silent. “The way it is is the way it is,” He explained. “We’ve got no choice but to deal with what’s in front of us.”

“Steve, you know as well as I do that those two wouldn’t survive a day in Whitefall anyway.” Bucky was standing at his side now, the captain refusing to look him in the eye. “You throw them out, I’m leaving to.” That got his attention. Steve’s head snapped around, eyes meeting Bucky’s. They gave away nothing, but he still had an idea of what the captain was thinking.

Steve clenched his jaw and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It might be best if you do.” He said, voice almost unnoticeably hoarse.. “You’re not a part of this business.” With that, he walked past Bucky and out into the hallway.

“What business is that, exactly?” Pietro asked, following him. Steve stopped and glared. “I’m a dead man. I can’t know?” He asked with a shrug. “Is it gold? Drugs? Pirate treasure?” He took a step closer to Steve with each item he listed. “What is it that makes you so afraid of Hydra?” At this point, he was only a few feet from Steve.

“You don’t want to go down this road with me,” He threatened, taking a step closer.

“Oh, so you’re not afraid of them.” Pietro concluded, still looking to get a rise out of Steve. “I mean, I already know you’re willing to sell me out to them for a pat on the head.  It surprises me that you’re not working for them. You certainly fit the profi-” He was silenced when Steve’s fist connected with his face, knocking him to the ground. As Pietro wiped his mouth, he looked up at Steve, who was still glaring and seriously considering kicking him in the stomach for good measure. Natasha snorted from the dining area doorway. She’d seen that coming.

\---

Steve ripped the duct tape off of Batroc’s mouth. He crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash. “I’m in a tricky position,” be began, “But I guess you know that already, right? I’ve got me a boatload of passengers making my life much more interesting than it needs to be. The most prominent among those, if you ask me, being a Hydra mole. Likes to shoot at girls when he’s nervous. Now, I’ve got to know how close Hydra is and exactly how much you managed to tell them before Barton scrambled your call.” Steve’s standing a foot away from him, making it seem like he was the one who was going to be delivering the threat. Instead, he walked to the other side of the room and stood next to Thor. “So I’ve given the job to Thor here of finding out.”

“He was not specific as to how.” Thor added with a grin.

Batroc looked down, swallowing hard. He was big, but tied up as he was, he was helpless. “You’re only gonna scare him, you do realize that, right?” Steve whispered.

“Pain instills a great amount of fear.”

“Yes, but the less pain for him, the less potential added trouble for us.”

“Of course, captain.” With that, Steve left, sliding the door closed behind him.

Thor sat down in a chair opposite Rumlow, a calculating gleam in his eye. “Do you know how much trouble you’re going to be in?” The fed spat.

“I am no stranger to the law being against me.” Thor shrugged, leaning back in the chair.

“No, not like this. You think this is just some smuggling job? The package that boy is carrying-”

“It’s a girl.” Thor finished. “A young thing, very sweet-looking. She doesn’t seem to quite be all there,” He tapped his temple, “but perhaps that was the shock of coming out of cryo.”

“That girl is a precious object. They’ll be coming after her long after you bury me.”

Thor chuckled. “I am not going to kill you, Batroc.” He smacked the man good-naturedly on the knee. “Tell me, what is your first name?” He asked conversationally.

Batroc gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose. “Georges.” He deadpanned.

“Ah. Georges. No, sir, I am not going to kill you. What I will do, however, is tell you a story. I’ll keep it short so we can get on with this. Have you heard of the planet Asgard?”

“Yes. It’s one of the first planets to be terraformed.”

“Correct. See, I hail from there. I was happy there for a very long time. I had good friends, loving parents, a brother I adored, and all the love and glory of battle a person could want. But, you see, I was turned on, shamed, and chased off my planet. For all I know, my loved ones are long since cold in the ground. I have nothing of that place except my trusted Mjolnir.”

He held the hammer up so it was level with Batroc’s eyes. “I have killed many a man with this weapon. It can kill you instantly with a single blow as well as it can cause you endless agony for days on end. Which would you prefer? I apologize, I said that wrong. Would you rather a drawn-out agony or to tell me what you know?”

“They know everything.” Batroc exclaimed. “They know every name, every record. They know how many chest hairs you’ve got!”

Thor made a disappointed face and tisked, standing up. “They do not know a thing. It is all over your face. You should work on that, Georges. Good lying makes interrogations much more entertaining. Do they not teach you how to withstand interrogation? As an officer of the law, I mean.” Batroc looked down, unresponsive.

“I can see you’re not an idiot.” Batroc sighed.

“I do wish I could say the same of you.”

“I’ll speak a language you understand: money. She’s worth a shitload of cash, this girl. But if you kill me, there’s nothing. But, if you help me get out, you’ll have enough to buy your own ship. A better one than this hunk of crap, that’s for sure.”

Thor considered this. He had known money, he had known power, and he had been forced to leave it all in his past. He missed it, that much was certain, but not as much as he missed his family. Georges Batroc was clearly not an idiot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t stupid. He had managed to get onboard without raising any flags, had been friendly, albeit a bit clumsy, but fairly ordinary-seeming. His trigger-happy nerves and the fact that he had used his real name, however, implied that he was just after the reward. His size didn’t necessarily mean he was Hydra trained. Thor decided to see where this would go.

“Would helping you out mean turning on the captain?” It was a fairly obvious question, but Thor wanted to get a read on Batroc.

“Yes, it does.”

 

“How the hell did they find us? I thought you said we could get around them.” Steve barged into the bridge and came up to Clint.

“It’s not Hydra,”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s too small.”

“Commercial?”

“Uh, yeah.” Clint checked one of the screens. “I’m reading as an older model…Trans-U, looks like.”

“I didn’t think Trans-U still operated.”

“They don’t.” The two men shared a look, the same worry dawning upon them.

“Get me a visual,” Steve ordered, nearing panic.

“They’re still too far out-”

“Give me _something_ , Clint.”

The pilot swiveled in his chair, checking another monitor. “I’m picking up a lot of radiation.” Steve came up beside him, fearing the worst. “They’re operating without core containment.” Clint reported, amazed and horrified. “That’s…плохая идея. That’s suicide.”

Steve looked out the front window, his worst fears confirmed. “Chitauri.” Off in the distance, getting closer by the second, he could see the ship. The lights were glowing ominously and spikes stuck out from the side. Terrible coloring gave it an even scarier appearance.

“Oh, god.” Clint croaked, following the captain’s line of vision. “Oh, god. Oh, god.”

\---

 _“This is the captain.”_ Steve’s voice came on throughout the ship. _“We’re passing another ship. It looks like it’s Chitauri. Probably a raiding party, going by the size of her. It could be that they’ve got a destination in mind. Maybe they’ve already hit someone and they’re all full. So everyone please stay calm. If we try to run, they’ll chase us. That’s how it goes with them. We’re holding course. We should be passing them in just a minute, and we’ll see what they do.”_

In his room, Thor pulled aside a sheet on the wall, revealing a small arsenal of weaponry. Pietro joined Bruce in the infirmary, sitting next to the still-unconscious Wanda. Natasha was headed up to the bridge, even before Steve asked for her to come over the intercom, but was stopped by Pietro.

“I-I don’t understand.” He stammered.

“You’ve never heard of Chitauri?” She didn’t sound like she believed it.

“Only as campfire stories,” He admitted, “Men going savage on the edge of space, killing and-”

“They’re not stories.” Natasha interrupted.

“What happens if they board us?” He really didn’t want to know.

“If they take the ship, they’ll pin us in a corner, take turns hitting us with anything sharp they can find, and tear off chunks of our flesh for a snack. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve been summoned by the captain and I’ve got a husband to get back to.” Natasha took off up the stairs, leaving Pietro to go back to the infirmary and his sister. It was terrifying how easily Natasha stated the horrible fate that could await them.

 

Bucky pulled a small wooden box off of a shelf. He opened it hesitantly, not wanting to see the contents. A vial and a syringe, ready to go. He kept it in case of emergencies such as this, but he never thought it’d actually happen. At one point, he had even come close to getting rid of it. Steve, of course, had caught him holding the box and staring on one of the many occasions when he barged in without knocking. He’d put the vial back in the box, closed the lid, and hidden it on the back of a shelf, out of sight. “Things like those are important to keep for a rainy day,” he’d said before leaving. Well, right now there was a good chance it was going to storm.

 

Up on the bridge, Natasha entered just as the Chitauri ship came past. This was still the tensest moment. They would either sail on past as ships in the night or they would all die. Half of the ship had gone past already, but Chits weren’t always know to be overly predictable. Their erratic, violent nature was what made them so terrifying. It was like a cannibalistic combination of Thor and the captain on a bad day.

Natasha squeezed Clint’s shoulder. He brought up his hand and grasped her smaller one, kissing her knuckles. After a few seconds, a particularly terrifying piece of the ship came right into their view. “That’s a magnetic grappler,” Clint pointed with his free hand. “They get ahold of us with that-”

“Just tell me if they alter course.” Steve really didn’t want to hear it.

The pilot checked the screens. Steve and Natasha couldn’t tear their eyes from the window. They couldn’t even blink. As the tail end of the ship went out of direct view, the captain and second-in-command looked down at the same screen. “They’re holding course.” Clint said with a small laugh. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. “I guess they weren’t hungry. Didn’t expect to see them here, though.”

“They’re pushing out further every year.” Natasha breathed.

“It’s getting all too crowded in my sky.”

“You can say that again, Cap.”

 

Steve was inspecting Wanda’s sleeping face. She looked similar enough to her brother. Same face shape, though Pietro’s was slightly longer. Same nose, same cheekbones, same mouth. From what little he had heard of her speaking, they even had the same slight accent. Her hair was blonde where Pietro’s was dark, but he could tell by her roots that it had been dyed.

“Hey, Captain.” A voice greeted weakly from behind. Steve turned, smiling warmly at seeing Tony awake.

“Hey, Tony. What’s the news?” He asks gently.

“I’m…fluffy, cap’n. A-okay.” She frowned. “I can’t feel much of my body though. Jus’ the arms. It’s getting cold…”

Steve did his best to keep calm. He looked around for a second before spotting a spare blanket. “You’ve just gotta rest some more. Something on this boat’s bound to break soon, and I don’t have anyone else to fix it.” He secured the blanket over her.

“Ah, don’t worry. Doc fixed me up nice ‘n good. He’s nice.” Tony had a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. Steve still hadn’t talked to Banner about his defense of Pietro after Tony had been shot, but he figured it could wait.  

“Don’t go working too hard on that crush, зайка. He probably won’t be with us long.”

“You’re nice too.”

Steve’s lips twitched upwards. “No I’m not. I’m a mean old ninety-year-old man.”

“No you’re not. Buck’s always talkin’ ‘bout how nice you are. Well, whenever no one’s around.” Steve’s cheeks heated. “He wasn’t gonna let me die, you know. He was just tryna-” She reached out and grabbed his hand. “It’s nobody’s fault, okay? Just promise me you’re gonna remember that. Don’t take it out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Steve wrapped his hands around her smaller, much more calloused ones, nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’re so nice, Cap. Always lookin’ after us. You just gotta have a little faith in people.” Tony turned her head to look at Wanda. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Tony’s eyes fluttered closed, her head lolled, and her hand slipped limply from Steve’s grasp.

 

“It’s just a standard Companion immunization pack.” Bucky explained, handing Pietro the packages. “I’m not sure how much it’ll help in this case, but-”

“It’s better than nothing. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I could possibly do?”

“I don’t think so. But I appreciate it.”

“You said you were in medical school. Earlier, in the dining area.”

Pietro hesitated. “I had been, yes.”

“Could you have helped Tony?”

He paused, choosing his words. “I have surgical training and some knowledge of diseases, first aid, the works. So yes. I was studying to be a neurologist, though.”

“The brain?”

He nodded, curls bouncing. “Ironic, isn’t it? I learned to help brains while my sister’s was a government pincushion.”

“Why didn’t you help?” Bucky didn’t really care about the irony. “If you could have done something, why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you do more to help?”

“The captain made it clear he wouldn’t like anything I could possibly say, much less do. And Banner is one of the best doctors I know, you friend was in good ha-”

“You know him?” Bucky interrupted, flabbergasted.

Pietro swallowed, squirming. “He worked at the hospital where I did some of my research and interned. And a few years back, my stepfather was in an accident and almost paralyzed. Bruce was the one who helped him get back on his feet, metaphorically and literally. He performed most of the major surgery. Turns out they knew each other from back in the day. Charles lectured in one of Bruce’s genetics classes. Every few months after that, he’d come over for dinner. So yes, I know the doctor.”

Bucky put his hands on his hips. “Well. That sure changes a lot of things. I’ll talk to Steve about his.”

“Talk to me about what?” The captain came through the door, arms crossed. “Actually, that can wait. Kid, what’s your business here?”

“It’s my business.” Bucky interjected before Pietro could talk. “The usual. Giving the twins some help, seeing as they’re not going to be with us much longer. And what about you, captain? What are you doing in my shuttle?” Pietro took this as a cue to leave.

“It’s my shuttle. You rent it.”

“And when I’m behind on the rent, you can enter as you please.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“At this point, that depends on you.” Without realizing it, the two of them had gravitated together, to the point that they were just under a foot apart. Steve was the first to realize this, and from there took his leave of the shuttle.

 

“You’ll ruin him, too, you know.” Pietro turned to look at the captain, surprised. “This is what you’re not seeing here. Everyone on this ship, even a legitimate businessman like him, their lives can be snatched away because of that fed. Have you got a solution for that? A way around?” Pietro shook his head. “Come time, someone’s gonna have to deal with him. Logically, that should be you. But I don’t think you’ve got the guts for that. And I know you don’t have the time.”

Pietro’s eyes widened with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Tony’s dead. All thanks to that doctor friend of yours. Yeah, I heard you talking to James. Guess he gets to go out with you and your sister.”

Steve turned and stalked off the other way, but Pietro sprang into action. He took the stairs two at a time and nearly crashed into everything he passed. The world was moving in slow motion for him, and he just couldn’t go fast enough. It wasn’t far, just down a few flights of stairs and down a few halls. The world wasn’t just moving too slow, it was stretching. A flight of maybe eight stairs was suddenly two hundred. A twenty-five foot hallway was suddenly a mile long. Pietro’s only thought was _nonononononononononono_ and of Wanda. He had just gotten her back, he couldn’t lose it all now. And Bruce had just been making a misguided attempt to help. He didn’t deserve Steve Rogers’ wrath.

Pietro froze at the doorway of the infirmary. Tony was lying on the table, Bruce standing quietly at her side. The mechanic smiled at him and wiggled her fingers in a wave hello. Pietro turned to look back the way he came, breathing heavily. “The man’s psychotic.” He realized.

 

Steve, Natasha, Clint, and Thor were on the bridge, laughing their asses off. “You are psychotic.” Clint informed the captain, catching his breath. Thor laughed even harder.

“No, you should’ve seen his face.” Steve wiped his eyes, watering from laughter. “Oh, I’m a terrible man.”

“And Tony’s really okay?” Natasha asked, needing to be sure.

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t expect her to heal this quick. Doctor knows his stuff, I’ll give him that.”

A beeping came from behind. Clint swiveled. “We’re being hailed,” He informed.

“That’d be Sitwell. We’re close enough for vid, put him up.” Clint surrendered his seat. Steve sat down and wiped off the camera just before Sitwell’s face appeared on one of the screens.

“Steven Rogers?”

“Hello, Jasper.”

“I have to say, I didn’t expect to hear from you anytime soon, if ever..”

“Well, we may not have parted on the best of terms. I realize that certain words were exchanged.”

“And certain bullets.” Natasha muttered.

“But that’s air through the engine. It’s in the past. We’re businesspeople,” Natasha shook her head. She was out of Sitwell’s sight, but Clint and Thor could see her calling Steve out on his bullshit. “Besides, your days of fighting over salvage rights are long behind you, so I hear. What are you, mayor now?”

“Just about.” Sitwell affirmed. “Are you telling me the truth about that cargo?” Steve nodded. “Because your asking price is a bit too reasonable for that kind of treasure, not to mention that much.”

“It’s imprinted.” He explained. “Hydra. Hence the discount.”

“Oh, government goods, eh?”

“If that doesn’t work for you, no harm. Just thought you could use-”

“Hydra doesn’t scare me.” He interrupted. “I was just collecting data. But I like that you’re up front about it. We can deal. I’ll upload you coordinates for a rendezvous outside of town. I’ll see you in the world.” With that, the transmission flips off.

Steve stared at the screen consideringly for a moment. “I believe that man is planning to shoot me again.” He decided.

“Had his intention been to pay you, he surely would have bartered.” Thor agreed.

“Just a little effort to hide it would’ve been-” Clint began, but was interrupted by Steve shoving the pilot’s empty dinner plate onto the floor in frustration.

“Cap, we don’t have to deal with him.” Natasha reasoned.

“Yes, we do.”

“Here’s an idea.” Clint suggested. “Why don’t you shoot him first? I’d say it’s his turn.”

“That doesn’t get us what we need.”

“There’s moons on this belt we haven’t seen yet. We could try our luck-” Natasha tried once more to convince Steve to try something different.

“Our luck?” Steve rounded on his second-in-command, eyes steely. “Have you noticed anything in particular about our luck these past few days? Any kind of pattern?” They stayed silent. “You depend on luck, you end up drifting. No fuel, no prospects, begging for Hydra and getting towed out to the scrap yard. Last I checked, that’s not us. Not now, not ever. Sitwell has the money to pay, and he will, one way or another. There’re plenty of obstacles in our path, but we’re going to deal with them one by one. We’ll get through this. We will.” He assured.

A few decks below, Batroc sat on his bed, still bound, straining at the ropes around his wrists. And slowly but surely, they started to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think I'm on a roll. Story's getting interesting, isn't it? No? Okay, I'll keep trying.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> Возьмите все планеты во Вселенной, и засуньте их мою задницу. = Take all the planets in the universe and shove them up my ass. (AN ACTUAL THING SAID IN MANDARIN ON THE SHOW)  
> зайка = bunny (affectionate name)  
> плохая идея = bad idea


	4. Avenger: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deal goes down. More bullets. Thrilling chases. Those who deserve it get what they deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a few pretty blatant references. See if you can spot them.  
> Like mentioned before, there is a gunfight or two, depending on your perspective, and there is an unfortunate horse caught in the crossfire (I am a horse lover and it hurt me to write). Other than that, a couple of people are held at gunpoint and Thor knocks a guy out with mew-mew. I'm not exactly describing guts going flying.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Special thanks to Armygirl0604 and MagpieMorality, who have offered lots of love and support and inspired me to get this fic back up!
> 
> P.S.S. I am on the lookout for a beta, if anyone would like to offer their services or knows someone. Not any huge work, just checking grammar and continuity.

The _Avenger_ landed easily on the ground in Whitefall, kicking up a large amount of dust as it did. Like most outer rim planets, Whitefall was very mountainous and sunny, with clouds rarely seen in the sky. It was hot, but not quite arid. It was a step behind a desert, really. Not the kind of planet most people would take too kindly to being stranded on. As the ramp lowered, Steve and Natasha walked off, squinting in the sudden bright sun, slightly unaccustomed to natural light after having spent so much time on the ship under fluorescent lights. they headed off in the direction of their rendezvous spot on foot. Generally, they liked to deal a bit closer to the ship, but Sitwell had insisted on a spot in a valley too narrow for _Avenger_ to fly through.

“Nice place for an ambush.” Natasha commented sourly, taking a look around.

“That it is.” Steve agreed. They were standing on a ridge, looking down into the dried-up creek bed where they were to meet. The pair turned as Thor jogged up to them, holding a bar of the loot.

“We made sure to bury it well.” The man assured. “All the equipment is back onboard. The earpieces should be set up as well.”

“Let’s see, then.” Steve put a hand up to his right ear, switching on his comm. “Testing, testing. Can you hear me?”

 _“Loud and clear.”_ Bucky’s voice replies.

Steve grits his teeth. “I’m still not happy about this, you know.”

_“You got a better idea? Or sniper, for that matter?  Besides, I’ve got Thor with me.”_

“Clint might actually be better than you. And as for Thor, you don’t right now.”

_“You know what I mean. And Clint is back at the ship in case we need to make a quick getaway - which we most likely will. Besides, if I truly couldn’t handle this, you would’ve put your foot down and locked me in my shuttle.”_

“I’m not that cruel.”

_“No, but you’re pretty damn stubborn.”_

“Boys, can we get to work?” Natasha interrupted. “You can flirt later.”

_“That’s not what flirting sounds like, Natalia. I would know. I flirt professionally.”_

“Sounded like flirting to me.” She muttered, shooting the Captain a pointed look.

_“That’s because the only flirting you know now is that awkward complimenting your husband does that works for some reason. You know, I’m still not convinced that he hasn’t hypnotized you or something.”_

“Give the guy a break, he hasn’t been hearing what he says when he speaks for very long.”

“Guys, can we focus?” Steve snaps, irritated. “Now, Sitwell will figured we buried the cargo, which will give us at least a bit of time. He’ll come at us from the East,” He pointed down the canyon, “Talk the location of the loot out of us. After showing us some cash, of course. He’ll pay us, and then snipers will hit us from there, and there.” He pointed to two separate spots. “Bucky, did you see where I-”

_“Yes, Steve, I have eyes. And they’re already in position, right where you said. Can’t see me, of course, because they’re idiots and only care about you.”_

“I’m going to not be insulted by that. Thor, take a walk around the park. But walk soft, I want Sitwell thinking they’re still in place.”

_“And me?”_

“Stick with Thor.” The Asgardian nodded and began to jog off. “Oh, and don’t kill anyone if you don’t have to. We’re here to make a deal!”

_“Then why am I here?”_

“Because more often than not, we have to. You know this.”

 _“You’re right. I just like your voice when you get all annoyed.”_ Again with the fucking purring.

“This is flirting.” Natasha decided, covering her transmitter. “This is definitely flirting.” She switched it off, looking around. “I don’t think this is a good spot, Cap. He’s still got the advantage over us.”

“Everyone always does. Yet here we are.”

 

Bruce took a deep breath at the door to the cabin. It would be so easy to just turn around and leave. It’s what he wanted to do. Instead, he did the morally right thing and knocked lightly on the door. “Officer,” He called quietly, “It’s the doctor; Banner. I came to bring you some wa-” The door slid open and Bruce was hit on the head with a blunt instrument. Batroc was able to snatch the glass before it hit the ground and made any noise. Banner was quite unconscious, but the fed gave him two more solid whacks for good measure, just to be sure, before dragging him back into the cabin.

 

Steve and Natasha stopped walking about a dozen meters from a small grove of trees. A group of people on horseback (save one, who was on an ATV) was emerging, lead by Sitwell himself, wearing a large hat to cover his otherwise shiny bald head. He stopped his horse a few meters from Steve and Natasha, the rest of his ensemble forming a wall of horses on either side of Sitwell.

“Ah, Steven. How have you been?” Sitwell asked conversationally. Sitwell was a slimeball, but he radiated intelligence, something you didn’t find in many border moon rulers. It made him quite formidable, really. And he wasn’t fond of doing the dirty work, which made the scar on Steve’s leg something of an honor. He was one of only a handful of people who had been shot by Jasper Sitwell.

“Walking and talking, as you can see.” Steve wasn’t much in the mood for pleasantries, but he had to give Thor and Bucky time.

Sitwell squinted at the redhead. “Is that Natasha? A pretty, smart woman like you shouldn’t be still sailing with this old man.”

“That’s an awful lot of men to haul three crates.” Natasha commented, ignoring the jibe.

“Yes well, I couldn’t be sure Steven here wouldn’t come looking for some kind of resolution to a vendetta. You understand the precaution, I’m sure.”

“We’re just here for the job, Jasper. No one here is interested in surprises.”

Up on the hillside, a sniper was in position, scope focused on Steve. Suddenly, he was dragged backwards by his ankles and was silenced by a single blow to the head. Bucky crawled up to the gun, dressed in a camouflage-print jacket and dusty brown pants (both of which were Steve’s).

“Go get the other one, I’ve got this.” Bucky whispered to Thor, who simply nodded and clipped his hammer back onto his belt before hurrying off, silent despite his size. Bucky put his eye up to the scope and looked for Steve. He grinned once he had him in his view, making sure to keep him there.

“I don’t see my cargo anywhere.” Sitwell commented, disappointed, looking around.

“And you’re not going to until I’ve got an even 200 in platinum safely in my hand.”

“Oh, come now, Rogers. I’m supposed to take it on _faith_ that you’ve got the goods?”

Steve pulled aside his long dark blue coat, revealing not only the pistol he had holstered to his thigh, but the bar in his front pocket. He pulled the bar and tossed it to the man at Sitwell’s left, who handed it off. “It’s pure, Sitwell. A-grade foodstuffs, all of it. Protein, vitamins, immunization supplements. One of those would feed a family for a month. Longer, if the kids don’t behave.” Sitwell pulled back the wrapper and took a bite of the soft brown bar, chewing as he listened.

“Alright, that’s it.” He conceded, handing the bar back to the man. He pulled out a leather bag and tossed it to Steve, who caught it deftly. “So where’s the rest?”

 

Wanda sat up as soon as she awakened, shakily pushing herself up. She looked down at the cot, at her hands, before looking around the infirmary but not really seeing any of it. “Pietro?” She called out, voice wavering, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Tony asked, leaning forward slightly, despite the biting pain right beneath her shoulder.

The girl hopped off the cot, walking slowly towards the infirmary door. She was wearing an old pair of Natasha’s leggings, torn slightly at the knee. That, mixed with her wide eyes, still-wet hair, and the massive sweater falling off her shoulder made her look somewhat childish. She turned to look at Tony from in front of the doorway, just for a brief moment, before passing through. She was immediately grabbed by Batroc, who put an arm around her shoulders and a gun to her head.

“Well, look at you, all awake from your nap.” He hissed. Seeing Tony gaping at them, he removed his right arm from around Wanda, keeping the gun trained on her temple with the left. With his right hand, he pulled a smaller gun from his waistband and pointed it at Tony. “Look, I’m really not sorry about what happened before, but if you make so much as a sound, this one goes through your cute little head.” Batroc switched arms again, wrapping the left arm across Wanda’s front and pointing the smaller gun at her head, before backing away.

 

“And east half a mile, at the bottom of the first hill, you’ll see where it’s been dug.” Steve instructed, having listed off the directions a dozen times to Natasha on the way there.

Sitwell licked his lips, nodding thoughtfully. “You better hope I will.” He made no move to turn around.

Neither did Steve. “Well, then.” They were both trying to walk away, but the other wasn’t letting that happen.

“So it seems.” The only sounds were the slight whistle of the wind and the metallic clink of the horses’ reins as they shifted.

“I’d appreciate it if you all turned around and rode out first.” Steve informed, breaking the silence.

“Well, you see, there’s a kind of hitch.” Sitwell sounded regretful, but Steve knew he really wasn’t.

“We both made out on this deal, Sitwell. Don’t complicate things you don’t have to.” God, why couldn’t these things be simple?

“I’ve got a rule, Rogers.” Sitwell began. “I never let go of money I don’t have to. Which is maybe why I’m running this little world, and you’re still on that rusty old boat sniffing for scraps.”

Through his rifle scope, Bucky saw Steve pull out the pouch full of money, hold it up in plain view, and toss it back to Sitwell. _What is he doing?_ He wondered, before realizing that this definitely meant the situation was about to escalate. Bucky sighed audibly, which Steve probably heard through the comms, if the half-second upward twitch of his lips was anything to go by.

_“You’ve got your money back. There’s no need to go killing now.”_

“Are we just going to walk away?” Natasha asked, not happy about leaving empty-handed.

“I suppose that’s up to Sitwell here. It could get messy.” He raised his voice slightly at the end.

“Not terribly,” Sitwell countered, shaking his head. He chuckled. “You’re not as smart as you look, you know that, Rogers?”

Steve ignored the mockery, taking a half-step closer to Sitwell. “That’s quite a rifle.” He noted, gesturing to the man at Sitwell’s left with his chin. He was holding a large, distinctly dangerous gun and was wearing a top hat in surprisingly good condition. “The boy must be your best shot to carry that.” The man nodded at the compliment.

“He’s called Two-Fry.” Sitwell supplemented. Natasha’s hand on her belt was slowly creeping closer to the gun at her hip. “He always makes it quick and clean.”  

“Two-Fry,” Steve echoed. “Nice hat.”

The young man smiled, only to have a gunshot ring out a second later and grunt as a bullet whizzed through his head, knocking off the hat, as well as him off the horse. In the brief second Sitwell took to look up at where the shot had come from, Steve and Natasha pulled out their guns, cocking them and immediately firing off shots at the unprepared men. A few were taken off their horses. The one on the ATV fell forward, starting up the machine although he was dead. At that same moment, Natasha took a round to the chest and was blown backwards.

 

“You should try asking Cap to drop you off somewhere else.” Clint recommended. “Whitefall ain’t exactly the epitome of civilization.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” Pietro assured. “I catch on quick.”

Clint looked out the front window, turning his pilot’s seat slightly to do so. “Well, Nat’s out on a deal. I always worry. So, I’m not going out of my way to be nice, I promise.”

There was definite sadness etched on Clint’s face. Pietro wanted to ask what his story was. Radio static came through the intercom, directing the two men’s attention. Tony’s voice came through with a breathless, _“He took her. He took Wanda.”_

Pietro dashed out. Clint was about to follow when the console began beeping. He turned back, concerned. “Oh, don’t.” He threatened, reading the screen. “Don’t you fucking _dare_.”

 

Steve was firing off shots, careful to avoid those being fired at him. The confusion of the horses whose riders had died was helping to create chaos, making Steve a much more difficult target. Up on the hillside, Bucky and Thor (but admittedly, mostly Bucky) were firing as well, aiming more for the horses, which were larger and easier targets from a distance. One man got up, having been thrown, but was immediately taken down by Bucky.

 

Pietro was going down the stairs as fast as he could, making sure to be quiet. A level below, Rumlow was holding on to Wanda’s arm roughly, pulling her along. He hit the button to open the hull doors. As they whirred to life, opening, Pietro abandoned all logic and hopped over the railing of the catwalk, crashing into Batroc and landing on the metal floor with a thud. Wanda backed away, afraid. Both men were rolling slightly, trying to recover the breath that had been knocked out of them and dealing with the pain. Batroc’s gun was lying on top of a grate, waiting to be picked up.

 

The few remaining men had gotten smart, hopping off the horses and using them as cover, making Steve have to fire haphazardly. Bucky began firing in front of their feet, making the goons jump. One of the last two goons decided to ride off, back to safety. From the ground, Natasha lifted her arm and head, aiming carefully before firing off a round. It went clean through, knocking him off the horse.

Sitwell was the only one remaining, standing behind his horse and popping up to shoot at Steve. He managed to fire a shot that clipped the side of Steve’s arm, causing him to yelp and make a slightly pouty, yet indignant, face. Steve shot at the last henchman, who was starting to get up off the ground. He groaned and collapsed onto the ground, clutching his leg and groaning. Served him right.

“Nat?” Steve called, inspecting his torn sleeve. And that was his favorite coat, too.

Natasha groaned, sitting up and pulling the first four or so buttons off her shirt, checking her vest. “The armor’s dented.” She reported, less than pleased.

“Well, you were right about this being a bad idea.” Steve conceded, shaking his injured arm slightly.

“Thanks for saying.” She thanked calmly.

“Rogers, don’t you take another step!” Sitwell threatened, pointing his shotgun.

Steve sighed. He raised his hand and shot the horse, (not something he enjoyed doing in the slightest) which gave a pitiful cry and fell back onto Sitwell.

The man was whimpering, trapped under the animal’s muscled shoulder. Steve strode up to him and cocked his gun, pointing it right in his face. “Let’s get one thing straight, asshole. I did a job, and I haven’t gotten anything but trouble since I did it, not to mention more than a few rude words about my character. So let me make this as clear as I can.” His eyes were hard and his jaw was set. “I do the job,” He leaned down and swiped the bag from off of Sitwell, “And then I get paid.” He stood up straight, uncocking the pistol. “Go have fun running your little world.” He spat, turning away. Natasha was already standing, putting her gun back.

“Captain!” Thor cried, crashing through the brush on the hillside, holding the radio. “It’s Barton!” Natasha perked up at the mention of her husband’s name. “There is a ship coming in, approaching fast. They followed us. The чертовски Chitauri followed us!”

\---

Batroc, being a trained fighter, got up first to reach for the gun. Pietro, being closer, however, was able to get right on top of him, trying to wrestle the weapon from his grasp. He eventually pulled the fed and himself up to their feet, but was promptly elbowed in the face and sent crashing back into a stack of crates. Rumlow dove for his gun, but Pietro was faster, snatching up the smaller pistol, cocking it, and pointing it at his head.

“No, don’t!” He yelled. Batroc froze, hand on top of the gun.

 _“Chitauri.”_ Clint’s voice came over the P.A. _“Chitauri, incoming fast and headed straight for us. We are in the air in one minute.”_ Clint switched off the radio as he began firing up the ship. “I guess they got hungry again,” He muttered to himself.

Batroc, eyeing the gun in Pietro’s hands warily, made a jab at reasoning. “You’re really going to do that? You’re going to kill an officer of the law in cold blood? I know what you did for your sister; I understand. That doesn’t make you a killer, Maximoff.” Pietro spared a glance to the side, where Wanda was cowering behind a stack of boxes by the stairs. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just have a job to do.” He insisted as Bruce stumbled to the door, blood dripping down his face. He surveyed the scene, breathing heavily. “To uphold the law - that’s what I’m here for.” Pietro’s grip wavered slightly.

 

Up above, the Chitauri ship had cleared the atmosphere and was burning hard and headed for _Avenger_. Clint was sitting in his chair, muttering “come on, come on”. He turned on the radio and yelled, “Where the hell are you guys‽”, hoping to hurry up his wife and friends.

At that moment, Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Thor were all pounding across the terrain, riding three of Sitwell’s men’s horses. Bucky, somewhere in his time as a Companion, had picked up not only the art of sniping (seriously, where the _fuck_ ) and stealing Steve’s clothes, but of horseback riding. Natasha, being the smallest, was sitting behind him, arms securely around his middle. He was riding right alongside Steve, and Thor was a length or two behind. They urged to horses forward, hearing the clock ticking down in their heads.

Batroc exhaled, going for a last resort. Personally, he preferred cracking skulls, but this kid was way too on edge. “There is nowhere in the galaxy you can take her that the law won’t find her,” He insisted, face twisting maliciously. “Nobody is going to hurt her. Not unless you hurt me.” He left the threat hanging in the air as he moved towards the gun.

“I said no!” Pietro stammered, keeping the gun pointed. “I said don’t move.”

“It’s your call.”

The ramp whirred as it lowered, announcing the outing party’s return. Pietro turned at the noise, giving Batroc the opportunity to pick up the gun and fire a shot, which luckily barely missed Pietro’s head, ricocheting off the wall. As he stumbled to the gun and back onto his feet, Batroc grabbed Wanda, hauled her up, and put the gun back to her head.

“I’m not playing anymore.” He growled. “Anybody makes so much as a-”

The fed was silenced mid-sentence by Steve storming up the ramp and firing a shot that hit him square in the chest, killing him instantly. The captain inspected the body, just to be sure, right as the other three jogged up the ramp. “Thor, a hand here,” He asked.

Pietro unfroze at that moment, looking disgustedly at the weapon in his hand. He held it limply as he approached Wanda. She cried out, stepping backwards, at seeing the gun.

Natasha pressed the intercom button. “Clint, we’re on!” She called, pressing the ‘ramp up’ button. Steve and Thor hurried up, throwing Batroc’s body out unceremoniously, then running back down the quickly raising ramp, squeezing through the airlock doors a heartbeat before they closed.

 _Avenger_ kicked up more dust than it had on landing, gliding along the planet’s dusty surface for a moment. Steve, Thor, and Natasha made it up to the bridge in record time, all coming to huddle around Clint’s chair.

“How close are they?” Steve demanded.

“About twenty seconds from spitting distance.” The pilot replied, focused more on flying.

“I recommend you lose them.” Thor growled unhelpfully.

“Give me the vid.” Steve asked, and Clint pressed a button. The image was tinted green, but plenty clear. The massive, terrifying ship was right on their tail, a billowing cloud of smoke in its wake.

“Вот дерьмо. Они слишком близко.” Natasha choked, face painted with dread.

“How close do they have to be to fire those grapplers?” Steve asked, as Thor grumbled yet another unhelpful comment about getting away from the Chitauri.

“If everyone could just be quiet for a minute.” Clint requested calmly, masking his irritation. “I need Tony in the engine room, please.”

“Can she even-” Natasha began.

“Get her in there now.” Steve ordered to Thor, who was already running out. He brushed by Bucky, who was heading to the bridge, in the hall.

Bucky met Steve at the bottom of the stairs as he exited the bridge. “I want you to get in your shuttle. Get the twins and the doctor and be ready to go.” He launched into orders right away, not giving him time to speak.

“I can’t just leave you here.” Bucky insisted, grabbing onto the wall as the ship tipped to the side.

“That was the plan.” Steve countered, face inches from the Companion’s.

“Stevie, don’t do this.” Bucky begged, not noticing the slip-up in the name. And frankly, he didn’t care

“If we get boarded, you take off.” Steve met Bucky’s steely blue-grey eyes, his own the color of ice. “Head for town. We might be able to stop them from following you.”

“They’ll kill you,” He was breathless, afraid. Sniping, killing or maiming from a distance was one thing. Chitauri were a whole category of their own. And leaving the captain behind…

“Bucky-” He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, squeezing gently. He had ditched the jacket and was wearing a soft, thin sky-blue shirt. It was one of the few colors Bucky wore, and Steve had been there when he bought it. Steve’s thumb brushed against Bucky’s collarbones, and both their breaths hitched ever so slightly. Bucky stared up at him through his lashes, eyes wide and lips parted. “Go,” Steve shoved him back lightly, breaking the moment. “Save yourself, James.” _No!_ Bucky’s mind screamed. _Not without you!_

Steve rarely used ‘James’ to refer to Bucky directly. Bucky was originally a teasing nickname Steve invented, but it had stuck. And he liked it. It separated the Companion he was to the galaxy from the man he was on the _Avenger_. Steve calling him James meant he was creating distance. It meant he was afraid.

It meant he knew there was a good chance of death.

Steve turned back into the bridge. Bucky went back the way he came as well, walking slowly and watching Steve’s back disappear. Once he was out of sight, Bucky turned and ran out to get Pietro, Wanda, and Bruce.

“How’re we doing?” Steve demanded, getting right next to Clint.

“I don’t mean to alarm anybody.” Clint said in that same calm tone he used when he was intensely focused. “But I think we’re being followed.” It was that or gripe at Steve that getting up in his ear was annoying and disconcerting whether he could hear or not. Frankly, he didn’t have the time. The Chitauri ship was twice - if not three times - the size of _Avenger_ and hot on their tail, making a noise like something out of a nightmare,

 

Bucky met Pietro and Wanda outside of the infirmary, where Bruce was carefully watching Thor carry Tony, intent on taking her to the engine room “You three, come with me.” He said, putting his prosthetic on Bruce’s shoulder and the flesh hand on Pietro’s.

“I think I can help Tony.” Bruce countered, taking a half-step closer to the mechanic.

“Should I-” Pietro started, still feeling responsible for her injury.

The doctor shook his head. “Take Wanda. Keep her safe.” With that, Thor and Bruce set off in the opposite direction. Bucky helped Wanda up the stairs behind them, cooing reassurances in her ear.

 

 _Avenger_ dove in and out of the clouds, trying to shake the larger ship. “We can’t keep this up.” Steve insisted. “If they get even the smallest chance, they’re gonna take us down.”

“Tony,” Clint asked into the intercom. “How’re we doing? We’re gonna need a push here.”

Tony was lying on the raised area she used as a makeshift bench, back propped against a metal column. “You want to go for full burn?” Her voice was tired still, but not slurred.

_“Not just yet. But set it up.”_

“You know where the press regulator is?” She asked Bruce. Hesitantly, he shuffled towards the door and pointed at a panel in the wall questioningly. Tony smiled, which somehow made her look even paler. “Blueberry for you.” She complimented, coughing weakly.

 

Bucky was sitting in the cockpit of his shuttle, Pietro and Wanda seated safely in the main cabin. _“We’re ready for full burn.”_ Tony’s tired voice came on over the ship-wide systems. He froze, knowing what that meant.

“Full burn in atmo?” Natasha asked her husband, disbelieving. “That won’t cause a blowback and burn us all to death?”

“Even if it doesn’t, they can push just as hard and keep right on us.” Was Steve’s reply. His face softened slightly as an idea struck him. “Clint, you’ve gotta give me and Ivan.”

Clint smiled slightly. “I’ll see what I can do. Tony!” He called into the radio. “How would you feel about pulling a Crazy Ivan?”

“Always wanted to try one.” She replied. Off the radio, she sighed and turned to Thor. “Thor, open the port jack control, cut the hydraulics.”

He looked around, confused. He was pretty good with tech, just not under pressure. “Look, look!” Tony called. He turned. She was pointing at where he was supposed to go. “Look where I’m pointing.” Thor jogged over to a metal box and pulled it open. “Okay. Now, it’s really simple.”

Thor flipped the lid open and was met by an array of circuits and wires that was giving him a headache just from looking at it. He turned and shot a glare at Tony, seeing in no way how that was ‘simple’.

 

The Chit ship, having _Avenger_ in their sights, unlocked the magnetic grapplers, getting ready to fire. “They’re on us.” Natasha reported, seeing the change.

“Tony,” Clint spoke into the radio once more.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on.” Steve urged under his breath.

 _“Okay.”_ Tony’s tired voice came on.

“Everybody hold on to something!” Clint announced. Steve and Natasha backed away, finding a solid handhold. Clint grinned. “Here’s something you can’t do.” He mocked the Chitauri ship. The pilot slammed a button with more force than necessary, but hey, he was a dramatic guy.

On the outside, one of _Avenger_ ’s engines flipped around, allowing them to to a near-instantaneous 180° turn before it flipped back to its normal spot and they soared past, right under the belly of the enemy ship.

“Now!” Clint called to the engine room.

Bruce flipped a switch in a panel on the wall and Thor pulled a crank. The central engine, which took up most of the room began spinning faster and faster, until it was whirring deafeningly and glowing gold. The ship’s tail engine blazed bright, propelling them off into space of full burn, leaving a cloud of fire in the sky to trap the savage ship. The trio in the bridge let out a sigh of relief as they broke atmo, safe and sound.

“I knew I hired you for something.” Steve complimented, giving Clint a pat on the shoulder as Thor’s whoops of joy came through the radio.

“There’s no way they can come around in time to follow us now.” Natasha decided, rubbing her husband’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his pulse point.

Steve walked over and pushed the button to activate the ship-wide P.A. “We’re good, people.” He concluded. “We’re out of the woods.”

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief, letting out air he hadn’t realized he was holding in.

As Thor danced around, raving about how they should have a victory celebration fit for Asgardian kings (whatever the hell that entailed), Tony stroked the walls of the ship. “That’s my girl.” She whispered. “That’s my good girl.” She was suddenly, painfully reminded of her father saying those exact words to her. Tony shoved it aside, focusing on the positive. Like Thor’s ridiculous victory dance. She couldn’t help but smile. Bruce met her eyes, wiping off his glasses, and returned her grin, hesitant but beautiful.

 

“We should have enough left to hit a fuel station.” Clint reported, pushing the manual control wheel back into the panel. “We’re gonna have to make some repairs. We better have gotten paid today.” He gave Steve and Natasha a pointed look.

“We did.” Steve assured with a smile.

“Captain?” Natasha piped up, getting Steve’s attention. “I’d like you to take the helm now.” Even from where he was standing, Steve could see how blown Natasha’s pupils were. He knew where this was going. She turned her head sharply, zeroing in on Clint. “I need this man to tear all my clothes off. It’s extremely urgent.” She grabbed her husband by the front of his shirt and dragged him off the chair.

“Work, work, work.” Clint made a half-hearted attempt at a joking complaint, but he was all too happy to comply.

Steve plopped down into the seat, exhaling deeply. He smiled. It had been a good day.

\---

“The medicine I gave you will help you sleep.” Pietro told his sister, tucking her into bed. Her clothes from before - Bucky/Steve’s sweater and Natasha’s leggings - were folded neatly in a corner, and she was wearing a spare pair of Tony’s pajamas.

“But I slept for so long,” Wanda objected, fiddling with her faux-blonde hair.

“Just for a little while.” Pietro reassured, pushing said hair out of her face. “Then we’ll find a place. We’ll find a safe place.” He squeezed her hand. “I promise.”

Wanda reached up and touched her brother’s face, fingers lingering on his cheeks and nose, rubbing the bit of scruff he had been growing. “I didn’t think you’d come for me.” She whispered, suddenly looking as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing was real.

Pietro took a shaky breath. “Well, you’re a dummy.” Was what he settled on. “You’re my other half, you’re twelve minutes younger than me, and I’ll always come for you.”

Wanda’s eyes watered as she launched into a hug, pulling him close and letting the tears fall.

 

“Several of the crew will consider the Maximoffs and unnecessary burden.” Thor, blunt as always. He was generally Steve’s silent companion on the bridge, but not then. “You heard the lawman the same as I did. They will keep looking for her, no matter what. Her mind is special to Hydra. Important. They consider it their property. We can either allow them to stay, taking on the risk of protecting fugitives, or abandon them.”

“That about sums it up.” Steve agreed absently. Thor turned to leave, but froze in his tracks when Steve spoke. “Funny how the lawman got out of his room in the first place, seeing as you and Nat hog-tied him pretty well.”

“He requested to be moved to the bed. I did not see any issue with moving him. I had all the information we needed. He has an exceptional strength, evidently, and it was not something I factored in. It also stands to reason that he may have hidden a blade under the pillows or sheets of his bed. I will not make the mistake again.” Steve turned to him surprised by the answer. “Regardless, it all worked out. We have our money, and the Whitefall buzzards have a substantial meal.”

“But he did try to make a deal with you, right?” His silence spoke volumes. Steve chuckled. “How come you didn’t turn on me, Thor? You’ve been a loyal crew member, but you’re not one to turn down a good offer.”

He shrugged. “The money was not enough.”

“And what happens when it is?”

“No amount of money could return me what I lost. Consider me under your service permanently.” Thor turned and left, patting Pietro’s shoulder as their paths crossed.

The young man approached the captain warily. He noticed the tear in Steve’s sleeve. “Would you like me to have the doctor look at that? Even I could-”

“It’s just a graze.” Steve interrupted. “I’ve had much worse.”

They lapsed back into silence. Pietro walked forward slowly, looking out to admire the stars. “So, where do you plan on leaving us?”

“There’s plenty of places you might be safe. If you want the truth, though, you’d be much safer on the move. And we, as it happens, never stop moving.”

Pietro squinted. “I’m confused. No, wait. I-I think maybe _you’re_ confused.” He decided.

“The ship could use a medic, as you’ve seen. Two’s even better. You’re clearly not weak, and clearly you’re pretty bright, mister top three percent, so that could come in handy. But, more importantly, you’re not weak, and that’s definitely something. Which is why I said it twice.” Pietro sat down in the co-pilot’s chair opposite Steve, drinking in every word. Steve really wished he wasn’t so rapt in attention. That last sentence made him sound like a dumbass. “If you live by my rules and keep your sister in check - make sure she doesn’t do something crazy - there is a definite chance you could find a place here. At least, until you find better.”

The younger man’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at his hands. “I’m thinking of how I can put this in a not-bad way...okay, I can’t. Here’s my question: How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

Steve looked at him slightly disbelievingly. “You don’t know this, son, so let me explain it to you this once. If I ever kill you, you will be awake. You will be armed, and you will be facing me. Not to mention that you’ll have done something that damn well deserved it.”

“Are you always this sentimental?”

“I had a good day.” Steve smiled, leaning back in the chair.

“You had Hydra on you. Criminals and inhuman monsters trying to kill you. Half the people on this ship have been shot or injured, including yourself. And you’re harboring known fugitives with a price on their heads.”

Steve turned the chair to face the front. “Well, we’re still in the air, aren’t we? That’s enough for me.” Pietro turned to leave. “Oh, and if I felt like having you die in your sleep, I’d sick Natasha on you.” He added nonchalantly as the kid tripped over his feet, smiling to himself.

Yeah, it had been a good day.

 

**END OF EPISODE 1**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, happy ending! For those of you that have watched Firefly, I'm switching up Thor's Jayne, and instead of making him the number two threat to the Maximoffs, he's the president of the Defend the Twins At All Costs Club (or DTAACC for short). Bucky is the vice president, Tony is the secretary, and Natasha brings snacks. Clint comes along and eats all the snacks. Steve and Bruce join in because okay, yeah, they're kind of cinnamon rolls (plus they don't want to be the only ones left out y'know?) and should be defended at all costs.  
> I've got episodes 1-5 written, though they need some tweaking, but I'm open to any suggestions on MCU characters should be used for certain roles in future episodes! I love hearing what everyone has to say/would like to see!
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases:  
> чертовски = fucking (please note: this one comes up more than any other, in both english and russian. yes, the author has a problem. no, she does not intend to do anything about it because she loves to fuck*ng cuss)  
> Вот дерьмо. Они слишком близко. = Oh, shit. They’re too close.
> 
> Next Chapter: The Train Job!


	5. Train Job: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew gets hired by a man with a dangerous reputation to steal cargo from a train. It's time for some thrilling heroics!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a fistfight, as well as mentions of torture and human experimentation. And swearing. If my language bothers you, you're probably reading the wrong damn fic.
> 
> I used to actually dislike the episode, but now I have a sort of appreciation for it. Fun fact: Joss Whedon wrote this episode in a weekend. Why? Because the people at Fox are assholes and didn't like his beautiful pilot (and I'm only partially talking about Alan Tudyk)

_ After the Earth was used up, we found a new solar system, and hundreds of new Earths were terraformed and colonized. The central, more powerful planets formed an alliance known Hydra, and decided that all the planets had to join under their rule. Understandably, there was some disagreement on that point. After the war, the Independents - known as Shield - who had fought and lost went away, drifting to the edges of the system, far from Hydra’s control. Out here, people struggle to get by with the most basic technologies and are essentially stuck in the past. _

_ On the edge, it’s a very simple concept. A ship will bring you work. A gun will help you keep it. A captain’s job is simple: find a crew, find a job. Keep flying. _

 

\---

 

The bar was like most, really. Dim, dusty, loud. People were talking and drinking, making deals or whatever may be. Music was blaring, so everyone had to raise their voices to be heard. A woman dressed in pale purple danced around in time to the music, attracting attention to herself as much as she was uncaring about people’s eyes. She made her way to a table in the corner, where a man was sitting sideways, his hand leaning over the back of a chair. Quickly and discreetly, she slipped a piece of paper into his waiting hand before dancing off, the surrounding people none the wiser.

“The turn is yours.” Thor informed him. Steve sat forward and moved his pieces across the board, earning him an impressed look from Natasha.

“That’s a bold move, Rogers.”

“What can I say, I like life to be interesting.” He took a swig from his glass, smirking.

Natasha bounced her pieces across the board, smirking as she kicked his ass. Thor shot him a look that clearly said “nice move, dumbass”. “Well, I’ve given some reconsideration to interesting. Maybe it would be better just to settle down with a couple corgis.”

“I’ve always thought of you as more of a golden retriever kind of guy.”

“Less interesting life calls for smaller dogs.”

“Toast!” A booming voice called from over at the bar. “Toast! Quiet!” Steve turned in his seat to look at the commotion, and Nat and Thor did the same. “ _ Shut up! _ ” The voice demanded, and the music and conversation immediately dissipated.

The man standing at the bar fit his voice. He was tall and broad, greasy, bald, and all-around ugly. “I’ve got a few words.” He began. “This here is a most ass-picious day.” And he didn’t even know the word ‘auspicious’, but tried to use it nonetheless. “We all know what day it is.” Steve’s jaw clenched. 

“What did he say? Suspicious?” Thor was confused. 

“It’s a great and glorious day for all the members of the allied planets. It’s Unification Day!” A few cries of enthusiasm came up from around the room. “The mark of the end of scumbag independents and the dawn of a new galaxy. Hail Hydra!”

Alright, that was it. Steve grabbed his glass roughly. “Rogers,” Natasha started, face calm but voice concerned. He ignored her, standing up, shoving his chair back.

“Just feeling like another drink, don’t worry.” He focused on the man. Forcing himself to stay somewhat calm, he strode up next to him, put his glass on the bar, signaling the bartender. “Другой, пожалуйста. Такой же, как и прежде.” He requested, pulling out a bill from the cash in his pocket. 

“Hey, you gonna drink to the might of Hydra with me?” The man slurred slightly. Steve looked straight ahead, handing the cash to the bartender. “Six years ago today, Hydra sent the damn bluecoats running, pissin’ their pants as they went.” He smirked, but his face fell upon taking note of Steve’s coat.  A dark, midnight blue, standard for Shield officers. Regular infantry had worn brown, but soldiers took to picking the blue coats off of fallen officers, giving them the nickname bluecoats. This one was Steve’s, the one he had been given all those years ago. “You know, your coat is kind of a blueish color.” The man’s face darkened.

“It was on sale. Fit well. Didn’t think anything of it at the time.” Steve deadpanned, taking a sip from his newly refilled glass. 

“You didn’t toast.” He commented, “You know, I’m starting to think you’re one of them Independents.”

Steve, because he feels like hitting something, rounds on the man with a sarcastic smile. “And I’m thinking you’re not the sharpest spoon in the silverware drawer. So why don’t we just ignore each other until we go away?” 

He moves to take another sip, but the man just has to go and speak. “You know, if you ask me, the Independents were a bunch of cowardly, inbred piss pots. They should’ve been killed off of every world from here to Earth-that-was.” His words were directed at Steve, but he said it to the man sitting on his other side.

Having had enough, Steve slammed his glass onto the countertop. “Say that to my face.” He demanded.

The man rounded on Steve, straightening up and puffing his chest. “I said that you’re a coward and a piss pot.” He snarled. “Now what are you gonna do about it?”

Steve gave him a shit-eating grin. “Me? Oh, nothing. I just wanted to see your face so she could get behind you.” The man whirled around and was promptly knocked out by Natasha. “Gotta love drunks.” He smirked. Other bar patrons began standing up, eyes gleaming with challenge and malice. “Я забыл о других людях. Shit.” Steve swore. 

“Thor?” Natasha called.

“Your war was not mine.” He replied, leaning back, legs propped up on the table. “I will, however, wish you all the luck..”

“Alright, then.” Steve straightened his coat. “Let’s do this, then.”

 

Steve landed on the ground with a grunt after being thrown through the holo-window. He reached into his pocket for the radio, which was thankfully unharmed. “Clint, we’ve got some local color.” He reported. “A grand entrance would not go unappreciated.”

At that moment, Natasha shoved a man through the door and onto the ground, just in time to elbow one coming up behind her. As the first one got up, Steve gave him two solid punches in the face as the redhead wrestled with the other. “Is Thor even on our side?” He asked, dodging a blow from his opponent. As if on cue, the Asgardian burst through the door, pushing two more men with a barstool. From there, it was all-out chaos. People were getting punched and thrown, dirt was thrown into eyes, Thor was fending off people with the metal stool as more jumped onto his back, and Natasha was showing off the thickness of her skull. Not to mention the strength of her thighs.

Eventually, there were too many other people, and Steve, Nat, and Thor were backed against the edge of a cliff. “There’s just oceans of these people, aren’t there? It’s why we lost, you know. Superior numbers.” He told Natasha conversationally.

“Thanks for the reenactment, Cap.” She said through gritted teeth.

The first man, the one who had started this mess, pushed his way through the men to the front. He raised and cocked a gun, pointing it evenly at Steve. The others followed suit. “I think someone needs to put you down, bitch.” He growled. “What do you think?”

“I could do this all day,” Steve grinned. With unrealistically good timing, the  _ Avenger  _ floated up behind them, casting an imposing shadow over the Hydra supporters. “But I don’t have to.”

_ “Everybody else go back inside,”  _ Clint’s voice demanded,  _ “Or we will blow a new crater in this pathetic little moon.” _ The ramp lowered, and the three crew members jogged on, Steve giving a teasing wave to the crowd as the ramp went back up.

“No one ever said they were intelligent locals.” Thor mused once they were inside. “The fact that they cannot tell whether or not a simple transport ship is armed is further proof of that.” As Steve and Natasha took the stairs, Thor headed off towards his room, chuckling to himself.

 

“My thanks to the pilot. Nice save once again.” Steve thanked, entering the bridge.

“Always a pleasure.” Clint gave a little mock-bow in his seat.

“So, how are our passengers?”

“Oh, they’re fine.” Tony reported, sliding out from under the captain’s seat control panel. “So, what happened? Another nasty brawl? People getting punched, thrown, and meeting the unhappy end of Romanoff’s thighs?”

“Right on the nose.” Natasha informed as Clint checked her over for injuries. “And there is no unhappy end of my thighs, Tony. There’s just an unhappy end of me that gets channeled into my thighs.”

“Are you getting my wife into trouble?” Clint demanded, turning his pale, striking eyes onto Steve.

“Wha-” He gaped. “I didn’t start it!” Steve insisted. He may be in charge, but Clint Barton is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to two things: his piloting skills and Natasha. “I just wanted a nice, quiet drink.”

“Funny, Cap, how you always seem to find yourself in a Hydra-friendly bar on U-Day looking for a quiet drink.” Natasha was amused. Clint was not. Okay, maybe a little amused.

“See, this is another sign of your tragic space dementia,” Steve teased back, straight-faced. “It makes you all paranoid and cranky- it breaks my heart, Nat, really.”

Tony giggled, smiling wide. Clint narrowed his eyes. “ _ Another _ sign? What was the first? Wait, no, don’t tell me, I’ll only end up insulted.” 

“That you would.” Steve confirmed.

“So, did we at least establish a contact?”

Steve nodded, pulling the slip of paper from the dancer out of his breast pocket. “Ladies, we have ourselves a job.” Natasha snatched the paper from his hand, excited. “Barton, take us out. We’ve got some crime to commit.”

 

\---

 

Wanda was lying on the cot in the center of the infirmary, dozing lightly. Her head twitched as images flashed through her head. Bright lights shining in her face, shadowing identical figures dressed in white. Needles coming at her from every side. In her brain, in her eyes, in her skin. She clutched the edge of the table, shaking from the pain. She was crying, begging,  _ screaming _ for Pietro, her stepfather, for help, for the torture to end, for  _ something _ other than his hell. She whimpered as the mechanism came to her temple. The silver tube with the red dot at the end. The one that seared her soul and made her wish she was dead, burning through everything that should be keeping her alive.

In the real world, Wanda screamed and pitched out of the chair, crashing into the metal cart and sending instruments onto the floor. She sobbed, leaning against the wall, hands covering her face. She slid down, shaking and crying.

“Wanda?” Pietro ran over to her, concerned. “Wanda, it’s me. You know who I am?” He kept a few feet of space between them.

She moved her arm, uncovering her face so she could look at her twin’s face. Her expression immediately went from one of pain and fear to annoyance at being asked such a stupid question. “Pietro.” She stated, banging her head lightly against the cabinets lining the wall.

“Were you dreaming?” She stood up shakily, using the counter above as leverage. “Did you dream about the academy?” Pietro was desperate, eager to know.

“It’s not important.” She said quietly, looking around the room and brushing stray hairs behind her ears. Tony and Bucky had dyed it back to brown a few days ago, when she had been calm and stable enough to let people near her. 

“If you can talk to me - or anyone - about what happened there…” Wanda held up her hands, blocking her view of her brother. “The more I know, the faster I can help you get better.”

Wanda’s hands lowered, and her blue eyes went wide with realization. “This isn’t home?”

“No.” Pietro’s heart broke a little more. “No, we can’t go home.” Wanda’s eyes began to redden and her lower lip was trembling. “If we go home, they’ll just send you back. This is safest.” She had been shaking her head, eyes brimming with moisture. Of course, it only took a second for Wanda to regain her composure. She crossed her arms, face neutral. “We’re on a ship.” Pietro tried, knowing how much she loved space. 

Wanda looked around, analyzing the structure, even from in the infirmary. “Mid-bulk transport.” She decided. “Standard radion accelerator core, class code 03-K64. Firefly.” 

“Well, she’s definitely a genius.” Steve deadpanned from the door. Wanda whirled to face him, startled. “Even I can’t remember all that.” He walked right past the twins to the sink, running his injured knuckles under the water. 

“Do you need a weave on that?” Pietro offered. 

“It’s nothing.”

“I’m sure someone’s face tells a different story.”

“Well, they tell you to never hit a man with a closed fist. But, on some occasions, it’s too good to resist.” Steve chuckled, wiping his hand dry.

“I’m sure it is.” Pietro cast a nervous glance towards his sister. “The fight didn’t draw any attention, did it?”

“No feds.” Steve reassured. “Just a nice little brawl between men. And Natasha. Mostly Natasha. Don’t worry, none of us want Hydra on us. That’s why you’re with us.”

“I thought I was here because you needed a doctor.”

“That’s what Banner’s for. You and your sister are here so Tony has some new hair to play with.” He clapped Pietro on the shoulder and left the room.

Wanda’s eyes followed him, fascinated. “Steven. Crown. It’s Greek. But he’s of British isle descent. Probably Ireland.”

“He’s got standard accent.” Pietro countered.

“One of the larger colonies, an American one probably. Maybe Brooklyn.”

“Can you tell where everyone else is from?”

Wanda turned to look at her brother, one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “I know everything, Piet.”

 

“Doctor Banner.” Steve greeted.

“Captain. How’s Wanda?” He inquired, gesturing to the infirmary. 

“Still a little bit of an oddball. She seems calm enough, though.” As if to contradict him, a yelp came from the infirmary. The twins were smacking at each other’s arms, and it was hard to tell whether they were playing or if Wanda was genuinely fighting him.

“That boy’s got a big heart. The only thing he’s got in common with his father is stubbornness, I’m glad to say. He risked everything to free her from that place. He could’ve been the head of neurology in just a few years, had he stuck around. And that doesn’t exactly pay cheap.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Banner scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. I got fired from my job at the hospital and my research was defunded. There’s poverty everywhere, even someplace as central as Osiris. They didn’t like that I was using hospital supplies - which there was way more than enough of - to help people who couldn’t pay. And that’s when and why I left Osiris for the outer planets.”

“You’re a rarity, that’s for sure. How well  _ do  _ you know their family? The twins, I mean?”

“Oh, just Charles, really. Their mother left when they were kids - Erik and Magda were never actually married, I don’t think. It was really convenient for their father that they’re so smart, really. Growing up, they were always studying - or running, in Pietro’s case - and not because they had to, but because they love to learn. When they have each other, they don’t really need anyone else. It gave their father plenty of free time to do his work, that’s for sure.”

“Kid said his dad was influential. What does he do?”

“Some government position. There’s been a lot of controversy on him, but I don’t know the full story.” There was a moment of silence as Steve nodded, processing the information. “But, more importantly, why did you take them in?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You could have left them, no problem. And yet they’re still here. Not many people would do that.”

Steve shrugged. “Tony thought she was pretty.” And took off up the stairs. 

Bruce followed him. “Well, you’re certainly not keeping us for the fare. Neither of us can pay a tenth of what you make on one of your… _ jobs _ .”

“You mean our totally legitimate business enterprises? You say it like it’s a bad thing.” 

“If that’s what they call it these days. But what I’m wondering is why a man so concerned with flying under Hydra’s radar would house known, valuable fugitives. Wanda was in that institution for a reason, and whatever it was, they want her back badly. You seem to hold some hostility towards them, so why risk it?”

Steve stopped in front of the engine room door. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” He said, only partly sarcastically, before turning around and looking inside. “What the fuck is this?” The room was more of a mess than usual. Bundles of strings and wires were hanging from the walls and ceiling, making for a difficult path. “Tony!” He called. At a lack of response, Steve turned and left. “So, what about you, doctor? Why are  _ you _ still with us? I mean, didn’t you say you were going to be off bringing treatment to sick people all across the border planets?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find plenty of work here.”

“Funny,” Steve deadpanned, “Now where the hell is she?” The captain looked around the dining area, hoping to find the mechanic in there somewhere. 

 

Bucky, in a surprising turn of events, was the one playing with Tony’s hair. Where he was usually the victim of her bored, restless hands, she had been in need of some relaxing. And, in his experience, nothing put women in a more peaceful state than having their hair be played with. He was carefully and gently brushing back the dark brown waves, making sure it was all nice and neat.

“You want me to put it up?” He asked quietly. Tony hummed an affirmation and Bucky started organizing the strands into the hairdo he had in mind. “You have such lovely hair; it’s just like an old friend of mine’s.”

“‘S not that great.”

“Think what you want, but I say the doctor would agree with me.” Bucky knew his stuff, and he was pretty damn sure there was definite tension between those two. He had dug a bullet out of her, after all. Then again, tension could arise from less.

“Who, Bruce? No, he’s much too-” She stammered a moment. “I mean, I’m just - Do you think it looks better up?”

Bucky smiled. Yep, he knew his stuff. “We can experiment, don’t you worry. And later, we even might go wild and wash your face.” He pinched her nose, which was grease-stained like the rest of her. He let go of the hair he had been holding and started re-brushing, having a new do in mind.”

“Do you ever do this for your clients?” Tony inquired.

“Sometimes, but it’s not exactly common. The girls don’t really expect me to know how, and the rest don’t exactly have enough hair to get a brush through.” It was common knowledge among the main crew that Bucky had as many male customers as female, if not more, but no one cared. His preferences were his own business.

“Have you ever had to service a really hideous client?” Tony wondered aloud. “Like, with warts and all big and hairy and-”

“A Companion gets to choose their clients, thank you very much.” Bucky interrupted. “It’s guild law. But we don’t care as much about physical appearance as we do compatibility of spirit. Every person has their own energy that’s difficult to hide. You try to feel that-”

“And then you try to feel the energy of their bank account.” Steve joked, entering the shuttle. “It has a very specific aura.” He made a concentrated face, like he was giving a big lecture.

“What did I say about barging into my shuttle?” Bucky demanded, irritated.

“That it was obnoxious and rude?”

“Well, obviously. But I believe the word used was  _ don’t _ .”

“Well, you’re holding my mechanic under a spell. Tony, seriously, what’s up in the engine room? Was it monkeys? Did some terrifying flying space monkeys get loose?”

Tony shook her head slightly, so as to not get her hair pulled by Bucky. “I had to rewire the grav thrust because  _ somebody _ won’t replace the crappy compression coil.” She gave him a meaningful look.

“Get the place squared away, would you? It’s dangerous in there and I’m not paying you to play doll with our tenant.” 

“Я даже не могу сделать, как мне нравится.” Tony snapped, storming out.

“Gotta work to make time to play.” He called after her. 

Bucky picked up the hairbrush and put it back in a box. “So you’re servicing the crew now?” Steve asked, just a hint of suggestion in his voice.

The Companion snorted. “In your lonely, pathetic dreams. What do you want?” If he’d just been there for Tony, he would have already left.

“We have a job,” Steve informed him, inspecting a statue Bucky had sitting on top of a bureau.

“Congratulations.” Bucky deadpanned. “It wouldn’t happen to be on a decently-civilized planet where I could screen some respectable clients, would it?”

“Respectable. That seems a like a bit of a contradiction to me.”

“Don’t start.” Bucky snatched the figurine out of his hand, setting it back down. They were uncomfortably close now, mere inches separating their faces. 

“Actually, um, we don’t have a location yet.” Bucky met his eyes, surprised. “We’ll be landing on the skyplex in a bit. It’s run by a man named Pierce.”

“Never heard of him.” They were close enough that Steve could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Well, I have. And while we’re there, I’m going to have to ask that you stay confined to the ship.”

Bucky scoffed, taking a step back. “Oh, so the petty criminal is ashamed to be traveling with a whore, is he?”

Steve sighed. He knew this was going to be the reaction. “Pierce has a reputation for ruthlessness. If he’s got work for me, that’s fine. But I don’t-” He swallowed hard. “Look, I that know if worse comes to worst you can take care of yourself pretty well, but I don’t want it to come to that. I want you safe, same as the rest of my crew.”

“Oh, I’m a part of the crew now? I thought I was just your tenant.” Bucky was only a little upset by that comment, but he wouldn’t say it. Steve could tell on his own.

“Buck, come on.” Sighing, Bucky nodded in concession. “Thank you. Before I go, would you have time to do my hair?”

“Out,”

“Yes, sir.”

 

\---

 

Steve, Thor, and Natasha were led down a hallway by two guards: one in front leading the way and a second behind watching their every move. After several minutes of a dizzying amount of turns and identical hallways, they reached a vault-like door. The guard turned a wheel and pushed the door, where it slid on a track off to the side. Steve suddenly found himself face-to-face with a large, intimidating man with a tattoo covering half his face.

“He’s fine.” A voice said from behind. “Cain, they can come in.” The goon - Cain, presumably - stepped aside, letting them pass. 

The three crew members ducked through the circular doorway, coming to stand in front of a large desk. Behind it, sitting quite casually, was Pierce. He had the appearance of someone quite pleasant, almost fatherly. His aura, however, was that of a force to be reckoned with. “Steven Rogers is which?” He gestured between Steve and Thor.

“I’m Captain Rogers.” Steve said. Natasha and Thor settled on either side of him, a few feet behind. “This is my first mate, Natasha, and this is Thor.” He pointed to each of them in turn. 

“Very nice.” He nodded slowly. “I’m Alexander Pierce. You’ve already met Cain.” He gave the man a fond smile. “He loves to stand at the door and say hello.”

“We got word that you might have a job for us.” With Pierce’s reputation, it was probably smarter to try and entertain him, but Steve wanted to get this job over with. Mostly so Bucky wouldn’t be as pissed at him about the house arrest.

“Indeed I do.” Pierce stood up, pushing his chair back slightly. “A very exciting job, if I do say so myself. A train that has something I need.” He stopped in front of Steve, sitting on the edge of the desk. “You have worked a train before, haven’t you?” He pointed between the three of them.

“We have done a few.” Steve confirmed. 

“Are you going to ask me what it is I need?” He almost wanted to say yes, but he knew that could ruin his chances at getting the job.

“As a personal rule, no.”

“Ah, just as your reputation states. Very good. “Steve Rogers gets it done”, is what I’ve heard.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Well, on the topic of reputation. It’s all based on talk, gossip. And you for sure know that mine is less than pleasant. Cain.” The goon pulled out a curved blade and marched over to another door and pulled it open roughly. Inside was a shirtless man, hung upside down by his ankles and covered in cuts. Steve steals a glance back at Natasha, whose face has gone a few shades paler. “And now you know that my reputation is not all talk. You see, this man didn’t get the job done.” Pierce slid the door back closed, chucking, leaving Cain to cut the man down. “I’ve shown you what I do with him, and now my reputation is solid fact. If you do this train job for me, Rogers, you’ll be solid, too.” Steve clenched his teeth, humming an agreement. “Oh, you don’t like that I killed that man.” Pierce tisked.

“Oh, no. I’m sure he was a scumbag and totally deserved it.”

Pierce shrugged. “My nephew. I kept getting an earful too many at dinner. There’s no way out of that.” He walked back around the desk to plop down in his chair. “Now, back to the train job. Come closer.” Steve took two and a half steps closer to the desk, and the others did the same. He pulled up a screen with the blueprint of the train. “Here, in the fifth car, are two boxes. Hydra goods. You all don’t mind stealing from Hydra, from what I’ve heard.” Steve’s silence was confirmation enough for him. Pierce pushed a button and the image changed to a map. The two train stops were in a valley, surrounded by mountains on both sides “You’ll get on the train at Hancock, headed for Paradiso. Get the goods off before you reach Paradiso, and then go meet Cain here.” He tapped on a spot north of the train tracks, up in the mountains. “You get half your pay now, and the other half when you reach the rendezvous point. I warn you, if things go wrong, you won’t like what comes next. Do we have a deal?”

Steve gave him a small, insincere smile and nodded.

 

The train was pretty nice, considering. Standard hover design, so it rode pretty smoothly. The interior was nice, especially considering the poverty of the planet. The seats were slightly dated, but comfortable and decently clean. It was dim, but not terribly so. Natasha was lounging in her seat across from Steve, much more alert than she seemed.

“How long until we reach Paradiso?” He asked.

Natasha checked her watch (presumably Clint’s). “About twenty minutes. We should hit the foothills in five.” 

“Let’s get to work, then.” Steve stood up, shouldering his bag. Natasha followed suit.

“He’s a madman, you know. Pierce is.”

“He’s not the first that’s hired us.” Steve argued. “And he probably won’t be the last. You think that says something about us?”

“I just have an image burned into my head of that guy hanging from the ceiling.”

“You and I have both seen worse. We get this job done, and we don’t have to worry about that becoming us or anyone we’re stupid enough to care about. Let’s go do our thing, Nat.” Steve slid opened the compartment door and held it open for Natasha, stealing a last look inside the passenger car before he closed the door behind him. The next car, of course, was filled with soldiers. Dressed in the heavy red Hydra armor, large guns on hand. They turned to stare, alert and ready to attack.

“Morning,” Steve greeted, gulping down fear.

 

\---

 

Bruce was sitting at the table in the dining room, reading a book Clint had loaned him. From what he had seen, the Bartons had quite an extensive library, which had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t exactly expected smugglers to be bibliophiles, but life is full of surprises.

“Doctor,” James greeted, coming down the steps into the dining area. He was in long sleeves, but was finally comfortable enough Bruce and the twins enough to take off the prosthetic altogether. Natasha had made it sound like he actually preferred going without it, but kept it on most of the time out of convenience. 

“Good morning, James.” Bruce put his glasses on the table, leaning back in his chair slightly. “How do you think it’s going?” The Companion had been grabbing something from the small safe-like cupboards on the wall - sugar maybe. When he put a kettle on, Bruce’s suspicions were confirmed. He was probably making coffee or tea.

“Oh, you mean the exciting shenanigans?” James smiled at his joke. “Steve knows what he’s doing.” That didn’t stop him from looking a bit too solemn.

“How long have you known him?” As a doctor, Bruce had learned many people’s stories. He was always looking for something new.

James chuckled. “I’ve been on the ship a little over eight months now. I’m not sure I’ll ever actually know the Captain.”

Okay, maybe another approach. “I’m still surprised that a respectable Companion would travel with this sort of crew.”

“It’s not always this sort of work.” He was going through a drawer, grabbing a packet of coffee grounds. “They take whatever jobs they can get, even legitimate ones, believe it or not. But, the further you get from the central planets, the harder things are. As a result, law-breaking ensues.”

“I wish I could help.” Bruce blurts. James gives him a strange look. “I mean, I don’t wanna help-. Not _help_ help but - not with the stealing, but-” The other man was laughing now. “I do feel awfully useless.”

“You could always pray for their safe return.” That startled Bruce. His mother had been a believer, and had read him the stories as a child, but he had never considered himself a true believer. He read to patients often, which had earned him a reputation (and been half the reason he’d been allowed to stay at the abbey on Melinoe for nearly two weeks) as the preacher doctor. He kept a bible on hand, and made sure to keep it safe, but rarely read it on his own.

“H-how did you? Did you see?”

“Oh, I was kidding. I’m sorry, are you actually a believer. I wouldn’t have thought, a doctor like you-”

“No, no, no.” Bruce hurriedly shut him down. “I carry a bible around, mostly because so many people out here have a strong connection to God. He and I have a complicated relationship, but I’m not usually one for praying. Besides, I don’t think the Captain would like me praying for him very much.” 

“Then don’t tell him.” James poured hot water into a cup, mixing it with the coffee grounds and sugar. “I never do.”

 

Steve was contemplating their next move. Could they walk through? Would they have to make some excuse to pass between cars? He’d been about to seriously consider resorting to violence when, on the other side of the car, the doors slid open. The soldiers turned, the ones standing in the aisle stepping aside. A family with two small children were passing through, not giving a damn about the soldiers. Steve and Natasha took that as their cue to go through.

The next car was significantly less high-quality in comparison to their passenger car. The only light came through slats in the walls, there were no real seats, and people were huddled together, coughing.

“Cap,” Natasha grabbed his arm, stopping him, and whispered “Do you think there’s some information we’re missing. Maybe considering why there’s a whole Hydra squad sitting on this train?”

Steve glanced at the door they had just come through. “It doesn’t really concern us.”

“It concerns me, Rogers.”

“What I mean is, they’re not protecting the goods. If they were, people wouldn’t be getting past.”

“You’re acting as if you don’t think that changes the situation.”

“Oh, I know it does. It makes it more fun.” Steve grinned. 

Natasha gave him a matching smile before leaning in and saying, “It’s now been confirmed to me that you do not, in fact, have a complete human brain.”

“Come on, Nat. Let’s stick to the plan. We get the goods and get back on  _ Avenger  _ before we even reach Paradiso. But now, we get to do it under the noses of 20 trained Hydra monkeys. And not only does that make us look good, but it makes them look like idiots.”

“Is this the kind of job you would pull for free?” 

“Hell yeah.”

“Then can I have your share?” Natasha asked, following him as they started down the carriage.

“I don’t like anyone that much. So no.”

“If you die, can I have your share? Or would you rather it all go to your one true love?”

Steve ignored her second question. “You can have my share as long as you and your adolescent husband don’t spend it all on sweets. But I’d prefer if you split the profit among the crew.”

“Oh, ye of little faith. But I’ll keep that yes in mind.”

 

_ Avenger  _ flew alongside the train, preparing to go over. In the cargo bay, Tony was preparing for the drop, opening up a panel in the floor. Bruce came in hesitantly, not wanting to distract her. “Hi,” he decided upon, giving her a little wave. Tony looked up and smiled shyly.

“Oh, hey. Doctor.” She wasn’t sure if they were quite on a first-name basis.

“You know, you really should just call me Bruce.” Well, that settles that.

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that.”

“So…” Bruce looked down into the hole in the floor. “What are we doing?”

“Oh. Crime.” Tony said, somewhat excitedly.

“Crime.” Bruce said with forced enthusiasm. “Never would’ve guessed that.”

Tony giggled at his awkwardness. “It’s a train heist.” She explained. “You see, we fly over the train car, Cap and Natasha sneak in, and we lower Thor onto the car. They bundle up the booty, and then we haul their asses back up. Easy as pie.”

“So you’ve done this before?”

Tony laughed. “Oh, never. But I think it’s gonna work. The captain is отлично when it comes to plans.”

“Is there anything maybe I could do? Or Pietro, maybe? I think he needs a break from Wanda, however brief, every once in awhile, regardless what he may say.”

“You may find staying well out of the way to be the best possible help.” Thor grumbled, coming in dressed in a harness and a uniform-like brown suit. 

“There’s no need to be grumpy, big guy.” Tony chastised.

“No one else is about to jump onto a moving train. And seeing as neither the captain nor first mate is present, I am in charge.”

“Since when?” 

Tony’s comment goes unheard. “And do not think that you are a part of our crew simply because Captain says you are.” He gives Bruce a hard glare. “You can do your part in helping the young lad with his ill sister. One would expect a doctor to be more eager to heal.”

He wasn’t sure what to quite say to that. “Alright, then.” Bruce turned and left, oblivious to Wanda and Pietro, huddled in the dark on the catwalk up above.

Tony began lowering the hook. “You shouldn’t be so rude to him, you know.” She wouldn’t meet Thor’s eyes.

“Why ever not? Because he has wealth and you find him handsome?” 

“He’s not rich. He was fired and left virtually penniless for caring more about people than the size of their wallets. It’s the same thing that happened to Pietro, you know. Hydra crashed his accounts when he snuck Wanda out.”

“None of us would be in poverty if we turned her in.” Thor reasoned, unclipping the hook so Tony could attach it to his harness.

“You’re not seriously thinking that.” Tony’s face was filled with disbelief. “You like them too much.”

“Rogers is.”

“You’re lying. He cares about them, too.”

“He’s not a fool, Antonia. Why would he take on needless trouble if there was nothing to be gained? He is calculating something, I can tell. Just wait.” Thor pulled a hat over his long blond hair. “I would suggest you keep that in mind, but for the moment, there is work to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama bear Thor is my new aesthetic. He knows all about unconditional sibling love, after all. Yeah, this is going to be fun to play with as the story develops.  
> I've been really sick for about five days now, so I'm really proud of myself for getting this up. Nice comments have definitely helped :)
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> Другой, пожалуйста. Такой же, как и прежде. = Another, please. Same as before.   
> Я забыл о других людях. = I forgot about other people  
> Я даже не могу сделать, как мне нравится = I can’t even do as I please  
> отлично = excellent


	6. Train Job: Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some complications. Nothing a bit of slapping can't fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I mean to post sooner but my schedule's been really weird and my dumb brother got me sick...  
> Anyway, here's part two! The next episode, I think, is going to have some significant changes, just with seeing how I'm reworking the characters, so that promises to be fun.  
> Warnings for mentions of illness, a single brief mention of suicide (nothing graphic I swear), a couple people get shot, doped, stabbed, and meet an unfortunate end, but all's well that ends well.

“Pierce’s sources better be good.” Natasha braced herself against the wall as Steve slotted the card into the door mechanism. The light turned green and the door slid open smoothly.

“At least good enough,” Natasha replied with a smirk.

Steve cast a cursory glance around the car before hurrying in, Natasha on his heels. She placed a canister at the door before closing it carefully behind them. Steve was halfway down the car, standing on a crate and unscrewing the ceiling panel with a drill. “Find the cargo.” He ordered.

Nat went down the aisle, checking the boxes. She stopped at a stack covered with a silver tarp. She ran a hand over the surface before pulling it off. Underneath was their cargo: a vertical stack of rectangular black boxes. “All hail the might of Hydra,” She whispered.

 

Tony could’ve spent her time wondering how no one noticed a spaceship flying over a train, but she had more important things to do. Like, for instance, making sure Thor didn’t end up as a bug on a windshield. The bottom doors were open, and Tony was standing off to the side, watching Thor prepare to jump. He gave a countdown, flashed her a grin, and jumped, landing on the car with a grunt. He heaved himself over the open roof of the train, landing heavily on his feet in front of Steve and Natasha, who were pulling the cargo over towards the hole.

Steve gave him a pat on the back before he unclipped the line from his harness and handed it to Natasha. She attached it to the net holding the crates. “Fifteen seconds,” The captain called into his handheld radio. Up on the ship, Clint’s arms were shaking from the concentration of keeping the ship perfectly steady.

The three crew members had just stepped onto the pile of crates and grabbed onto the line, ready to go back up, when the door opened. A Hydra guard pulled open the door, gun already cocked. Natasha’s canister from earlier blew smoke in his face, clouding his vision. He shot blindly at the trio. Steve and Natasha were able to get down, but Thor was hit in the leg.

“Just go!” Natasha called, “We can handle this!”

“Bring me up now!” Thor yelled into his radio. Tony immediately began lifting him back up.

Steve ran up to the guard and quickly knocked him out with a hit to the face and stomach. “Come on,” He ushered Natasha back the way they came.

Guards were coming through the hall, having heard the disturbance. From the opposite end of the car, Steve and Natasha threw smoke bombs into the carriage, causing large amounts of confusion and coughing, but giving them the opportunity to sneak in unseen.

 

Thor groaned as the crates hit the floor onboard _Avenger_. “Where are the others?” Tony asked, distressed.

“I was injured. They elected to stay behind.” Thor groaned, exhausted by the pain and adrenaline rush. He disentangled his hands from the netting and fell backwards onto the ground, landing with an ‘oomph’.

“Are they going to be okay?” Tony’s voice was tinged with fear and concern.

 

At Paradiso, feds were ushering everyone off the train keeping the lines moving quickly. Steve and Natasha walked side by side, casting wary glances all around them. They stopped in front of a bench just as an officer came up to a fed a few feet behind Steve.

“Our man didn’t get a look.” The fed reported.

“Well, great. Can someone find out what they took?” The officer replied grumpily.

Off to the side, the town sheriff was barking at a group of passengers from the train, herding them into one spot and ordering them to keep quiet.

“It was the medicine, sir.” A female voice said from behind. “All of the supplies.”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly as he looked over at Natasha, who was wearing the same expression as him (all neutral except for the eyes). “They stole the goddamn medicine?” The sheriff asked, unbelieving. “We’ve been waiting for it for weeks. Are you sure it was all of it?”

“Every ounce.”

Steve looked over to a group of passengers. Mothers and children, huddled together, the children weeping, mothers reassuring. The women were murmuring comforts, trying to stop their crying. They were _sick_ , Steve realized. And they’d just stolen the medicine they needed. “Son of a bitch,” He muttered.

 

\---

 

_-What’s the fuss?_

_\--All-network alert. Cargo theft. A medical shipment lifted off a train in the Georgia system en route to Paradiso._

_-Six crates of Pescaline “D”. Right. That’ll get you quite the tidy fortune on the black market. Tag it received, bounce it back. Locals can deal with it._

_\--Sir, there is a regiment holding in Paradiso. They were on the train headed to the installation._

_-Then get them back on the train and get it moving. Who’s holding them there?_

_\--The sheriff requested a few help him investigate -_

_-These are federal marshals, not local narcotic hounds. They’ve got better things to do, and so do we._

 

“Why are we here?” Thor demanded as Clint entered the infirmary. “This is not our rendezvous point.” He was trying to get out of the seat, but Bruce was doing his best to hold him down while Pietro cleaned the wound.

“It is now,” Clint replied evenly, crossing his arms.

“Pierce’s men are waiting, and they are not the patient sort.”

“Well, then, they can take a nap. We don’t make a sale until Steve and Tasha are back onboard.”

“These are stone-cold killers.” Thor growled. “They will have no mercy for those who displease them.”

“I’m not flying anywhere without my captain. Less so my wife.” Clint emphasized that last word.

“They’ll be okay.” Tony reassured quietly. “They’re tough, and they’re together.”

“See? All is well.” Thor managed to stand up, but cried out at the pain and was forced back down. “I may need this pain to quiet a bit.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and stood up, peeling off his gloves as he walked across the infirmary. “But what about the authorities? We’re sitting here with a load of stolen Hydra goods.” He pointed out, grabbing painkillers. “Won’t they be looking for us?”

“If they check this canyon, we’ll hear ‘em long before they can see us.” Clint thought aloud, rubbing his temples. “I figure we’re good for a-”

“They won’t stop.” Wanda interrupted. She’d been sitting on a counter quietly, watching the proceedings. “They’ll never stop. They’ll just keep coming until you give back what you took.” She was looking at a point on the ground, staring. “Thieves get caught. Thieves pay for what they took. And when money isn’t there, they pay in blood.” She lifted her hands shakily, closing her eyes.

“Will you quiet?” Thor growled. Wanda broke out of her trance and glared at him. Generally he was nice to her, but pain made him cranky. “Now, I am in command here,” Clint made a face at that, “and I am telling you what is going to be done. If we do not get the shipment to Pierce on time, he will fashion us all into sausage. I, personally, do not wish to be a part of that.”

“Is this Alexander Pierce you’re talking about?” Bruce asked curiously as Pietro injected the painkillers into Thor’s arm.

The Asgardian fixed him with a suspicious look. “How would an Osirian surgeon know a name like that?”

Bruce ignored the question. “From how I’ve heard it, he made a deal with the _captain_. If he’s not there to finish it, and if Pierce finds out that he’s being held and may speak as to who hired him, I think we’re better off being a little late.” The threat hung in the air. No one argued; he was right.

 

Steve and Natasha were seated in the corner of the police station, surrounded by coughing people. They had been there for hours, waiting for their turn to be interrogated. “This is a nightmare.” He whispered.

“Nothing points to us yet.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He looked over at a woman trying to calm a wailing baby. She was surrounded by others like her, sick people from the train. All huddled together, looking for a break. This was his fault. He turned to Natasha, needing something else to think about. “Remember, whatever happens, I love you.”

“Steve?” Natasha gave him a confused look.

“Because you’re my wife.” He said as if it was obvious.

“Right...Cap.” She quickly corrected herself, flashing him a soft but forced smile. “Honey.”

“Alright,” the sheriff read off a paper, approaching them. “Car three, row twelve. Mr. and Mrs. Roderick.”

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Steve asked in his ‘innocent civilian’ voice. “We’ve been here for so long. Did someone on the train get killed?”

“No, no, no. Nothing like that.” He assured, motioning for them to follow him. “Says there your fare’s been paid by a third party?”

“My uncle,” Steve replied, stopping in front of the sheriff’s desk, “It was a…wedding gift.”

“Wedding gift.” His face was one of disbelief. The sheriff sat down, motioning for Steve and Natasha to do the same. To play up the act, Steve even pulled out the chair for Natasha to sit down on, something even Clint would get a busted nose for doing. “Spending your honeymoon in Paradiso?” The sheriff asked casually, getting comfortable.

“Actually, we’re out here looking for work.” They’d prepared this story.

“Are you, now?”

“My uncle said he knew a Joey Bloggs out here who had an opening. Thought we’d try our luck.” Steve explained.

“You a miner by trade? Either of you?” The man clearly wasn’t stupid.

“Not really,” Steve admitted.

“Hmm. Haven’t seen many folk choose that life without being born into it.” He was grinning in a way that was supposed to be comforting or friendly, but the cold gleam of his eyes made it somewhat unsettling.

“Well, work is scarce for a couple just starting out,” Natasha flashed Steve a small smile.

“How come there’s so many sick in here?” Steve blurted.

The officer sighed, looking around the room with pity. “Bowden’s malady. You know what that is?”

“Affliction of the bone and muscle. Degenerative.” Steve tensed for a second. Natasha sometimes sounded robotic and out of place when reciting information. It could draw attention.

The sheriff didn’t seem to notice or care. He just gave her that same sad look. “Very. Every planet that’s been terraformed for human life has it’s own little…let’s call ‘em quirks. Turns out that here, the air down underground mixed up with the ore processors…” He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “Perfect recipe for Bowden’s.” He put a cigarette between his lips. “Everybody gets it. Miners, dumpers. Hell, I got it and I ain’t never set foot in a mine.”

“But it’s treatable.”

“There’s a medicine,” He conceded, lighting his cigarette, “Pescaline D. You can at least live like a person if you get it regularly enough, but out shipment got stolen off the train you to was ridin’ in. Which is why you won’t be seeing a parade in town today.”

“Stolen.” Steve sounded shocked. Ah, irony. “Well, didn’t I see an entire regiment of strong, young Hydra federals on the train?”

He nodded, blowing a stream of smoke. “You did. That same regiment let the medicine get swiped out from right under their noses and then took off to their own camp without so much as a lick of sympathy.” The officer handed his cigarette to a man in a cell not far from his desk.

“That sounds like Hydra.” Steve agreed. “Unite all the planets under one rule so that everyone can be interfered with or ignored equally.”  
“Hydra ain’t much use to us out here on the border planets, I’ll give you that. But,” He sat on the edge of the desk heavily, “they ain’t the ones who stole the medicine. If I ever find those people, they ain’t never gonna see the inside of a jail. I’m just gonna toss ‘em in a mine, let ‘em breathe deep for the rest of their lives.” He was looking Steve dead in the eye, trying to get a reaction.

“Can’t argue with that.” _Keep it simple, Rogers._

He hummed. The sheriff shifted his leg slightly, then made a noise of pain and began rubbing at it. “You mind telling me when it was you last spoke to Joey Bloggs?” He asked between pants.

Steve steeled himself, glad the officer wasn’t looking at him. He could’ve seen the brief second of panic. “I never did myself.”

“Right. Your uncle. Now, it was indicated to you that Joey had an opening?”

“We didn’t really ask questions. Any job would do, honestly.”

“That’s funny that your uncle never went to mention the Bowden’s problem,” He mused. “Or that Joey Bloggs ate a bullet eight months back.”

Steve’s eyes were allowed to widen slightly. “Did he?”

“Yep.” Neither man was breaking eye contact. “Blew the back of his head right off.”

“So…his job would be open?”

 

“We have waited long enough.” Thor declared, hopping one-leggedly into the bridge. “We must take to the air.”

“No fucking way.” Clint countered.

“We can’t leave Cap and Natasha.” Tony insisted as Pietro tried to get Thor to sit down.

“They are not coming, we cannot get to them, so they are done. We need to move.” His eyes were full of challenge.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked as he entered, Bruce at his heels.

“Prepare to fly; we are taking off _now_.” Thor didn’t break his eye contact with Clint.

“We’re _not_.” Clint argued evenly, crossing his arms.

“The captain would do the same if it were one of us in his position.”

“Not in a million years!” Tony smacked Thor on the arm. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Listen to me.” Clint tried to settle some of the arguing. Thor wasn’t having it.

“Barton, we are finishing this deal, and then we will come back for the others. Though they did, after all, get themselves caught. You can’t change that by getting all…” Thor’s head twitched and his eyes fluttered, “Bendy.”

“All what?” Clint was noticing the abnormality in his actions.

“You’ve got the light from the console to…keep you up…oh, they shine like,” Thor began grabbing at empty air, smiling childishly, “Little angels.” And then promptly fell flat on his face.

“Did he just go crazy and fall asleep?” Clint asked, expressing what everything was thinking.

“I told him to sit down.” Pietro shrugged.

“You doped him.” Tony exclaimed, stepping over Thor’s unconscious body to stand next to Pietro.

“It was supposed to kick in a little sooner,” He admitted, “I wasn’t comfortable with him in charge. I hope that’s alright.” Clint nodded enthusiastically.

“So, how do we get the others?” Bruce asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Well, Thor was right about them not making contact.” He put his foot on Thor’s shoulder. “Chances are they got pinched getting off the train.”

“We can’t just waltz in and get them out.” Tony added.

“Someone respectable enough might be able to.” Bruce suggested. Tony and Clint shared a look.

 

Bucky looked like he could buy the place. His suit was a charcoal grey that somehow brought out his eyes, and the gold designs on the lapels were probably made of real gold thread. He was clean-shaven and his hair had been cut shorter. Before, it had been long enough to tie back, but now it was just noticeably long strands pseudo-slicked back, a couple strands falling in his face. From his right ear, a small silver hoop was hanging. On the inner planets, this marked him as a Companion. Out here, it could have meant a number of things, but between his athletic, attractive frame and the expensive clothes, it was clear what he was. Regardless, he strode with confidence, purpose.

Steve, surprised to see him (and looking so good, at that) stood up and got in his path. “What the fu-” He started, but was cut off when a loud crack rang out and Bucky’s metal hand (which was camouflaged) struck his cheek.

“Don’t you _dare_ speak to me.” He growled. “Sheriff, I want this man bound by law at once.” He demanded, exuding malice and intent. “That’s assuming he hasn’t been already.” Bucky added, much more softly.

“No one’s been bound. Not yet.” The sheriff was surprisingly calm.

“Thank God you stopped them.” He turned back to Steve. “Did you honestly think you could access my accounts without me finding out? Without me finding you?” He demanded before turning to Natasha. “And you, Natalia, what would your husband say if he knew you were here?”

Natasha shrunk slightly, playing along. “I-I was weak.”

“So I take it they ain’t newlyweds.” The sheriff interjected.

Bucky scoffed. “Hardly. Steven’s my indentured man with _three years_ still left on his debt. I imagine I’ll have to add another six months after this little escapade.” Bucky trailed off, noticing the crowd he had gathered.

“Pardon them.” The sheriff apologized. “I just don’t think any one of ‘em’s ever seen a registered Companion before. Let alone a boy one.”

Bucky smiled politely, used to this sort of behavior. “I apologize for my temper.”

“Not a bit. ‘S all good.”

“Should I contact my ship? Do you need to hold them very much longer?”

“No, it looks like we’re about done here. We had some, uh, unrelated trouble. His story had kind of an odor to it.”

“Yes,” Bucky agreed, looking slightly ashamed. “It’s not the only thing about him that does.” He joked. He turned to look at Steve’s face for a brief second. To say the least, he wasn’t amused. “Thank you very much, Sheriff. Come along.” He barked, walking out with as much - if not more - swagger as he entered with. Natasha and Steve followed, not looking anyone in the eyes. Bucky eyed them both threateningly as he stood by the door, expecting them to go first. Without a word, they left, door clicking soundly behind them.

“That’s a hell of a guy.” The sheriff commented. “You sure his files were all in order?” He asked the officer at his side.

“I ran ‘em twice.” She nodded.

“Alright, then. Let’s get started on the rest.”

 

Bucky opened the doors to his shuttle dramatically, stepping out wearing a neutral, somewhat cold expression. “Hey,” Tony greeted, jogging up to meet him. “How’d it go?”

“He hit me.” Steve grumbled, shoving past Bucky. “With the _metal arm_.” He added, heading down the stairs.

Clint pulled Natasha into a hug, picking her up and twirling her around. She chuckled into his shoulder, wrapping her legs around his waist. “я люблю тебя так сильно.” She whispered between kisses. Clint kissed her nose and forehead before setting her down gently and hugging her properly.

On the landing below, Thor was laying on his side, only semi-conscious. “We tried to get him into the infirmary, but he’s just so heavy.” Tony told Steve, not offering any further context.

“I kept the engine running, so we’re good to go.” Clint reported, coming down the stairs, holding Natasha’s hand.

“We’re not going.” Steve stated.

“Not _what_? Why the fuck not?”

“We’re bringing the cargo back.” Natasha explained. Thor let out a series of unintelligible groans, probably meant to be some kind of complaint.

“What are you talking about? What about Pierce? Won’t this put him in more of a homicidal mood?” Clint argued as Steve pulled the netting off of the crates, opening the hull doors.

“There’s others who need this more.” Steve explained. Well, not really explaining. He stated it as an explanation, though it explained absolutely nothing. “Let’s get it on the mule.”

“My shuttle’s faster,” Bucky offered.

“You already risked enough flying in there once, and I really don’t feel like getting slapped again. And as far as Pierce goes, we’ll just have to explain to him that the job went south when we return the money.”

“You wanna explain, now’s your chance.” Clint was staring at a point in the distance. Steve stood and looked, clenching his jaw. Coming up into the cargo bay was Cain, surrounded by a handful of thugs. And boy, did they not look happy.

 

\---

 

“You didn’t make the rendezvous.” Cain told Steve calmly.

“We ran into a few complications.” He replied evenly.

“You are thinking of taking Mr. Pierce's money, and probably his property, too.”

“Actually, I wasn’t planning to do either.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The deal’s off,” Cain gave a confused look. “We changed our minds.” Steve explained, speaking to him as he would a toddler.

The goon snorted. “You entered into a deal with Mr. Pierce. There is no mind changing.”

“No, no. That’s where you’re wrong. We just can’t take this job. You can relax. We’ll give you the money Garrett gave us up-front, you give it back to him, and we call it even.”

“There is no _even_.” Without another word, Cain threw the curved blade in his handed, which landed with a squelching sound in Steve’s shoulder.

Chaos erupted from there. The other men drew their guns and began firing. Natasha did the same as Clint, Bucky, and Tony ran for cover. She took the henchmen, picking the first few off with relative ease, as Steve punched it out with Cain, ignoring the burning in his shoulder. One tried to catch her by surprise, but was promptly introduced to the butt of her shotgun. Steve had just been knocked backwards into a stack of boxes when an engine roared to life. Clint, laying as flat as he could on the mule (their trusty ATV), rammed into one of the goons on the ramp who had been about to shoot at Steve. Using the distraction, he punched Cain in the chest. Not that it did much. Two more solid blows from the giant landed him flat on his back. He picked up his curved blade, tip still bright red with Steve’s blood, and prepared to bring it down. Right until a bullet went through his leg, that is.

Cain lay on the ground, grunting with pain. Steve got up and put a foot where his clavicle met his sternum, forcing him down. “Nice shot.” He said to Thor, who was holding a still-smoking gun. His eyes and mouth were still wonky, but he managed something that sounded like “I was aiming for his head”.

 

Natasha stopped the mule on top of a hill about a half mile from town. “We’ll have to drag it from here.” Steve declared, hopping off the back. “Take it right to the edge of the road there. And then notify the sheriff once we’re in deep, deep space.”

“Why not tell him to his face?” A voice said from the brush. Sure enough, it was the sheriff and several officers, all emerging from the brush, holding guns at the ready. “Got word of a ship not too far out. Came lookin’. Sure didn’t expect to find you coming back.”

“Didn’t expect to be coming.” Steve admitted.

“Nothing missing.” An officer declared, checking the containers.

The sheriff sighed, chuckling to himself. “You were truthful back in town. These are tough times. If a man can get a job, he might not look too closely at what that job is. But, when a man learns the details of a situation like ours…well, then he has a choice.”

“I don’t believe he does.” Steve argued.

The sheriff nodded, giving him a small smile of approval. “Let’s get these crates back to town.” He ordered his men. “Make yourselves useful.”

 

Cain was kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind his back. Steve held up a wad of bills in front of him. “Now, this is all the money Pierce gave us in advance. You’re going to give it back to him.” Cain spat at his feet. Steve had to raise his voice over the loud hum of the ship’s engine coming to life. “We’re not thieves.” He realized his error. “Actually, we are thieves. The point is, we’re not taking what’s his when we didn’t earn it. Now, we’ll stay out of his way as best as we can from here on out. You explain it’s what’s best for everyone, alright?”

Cain shifted onto his feet, going up to his full height, a good four inches taller than Steve. “Keep the money,” he spat. “Use it to pay for your funeral. It doesn’t matter where you go, or how far you fly. I will hunt you down, and the last thing you’ll see is my blade.”

“Damn.” Steve said casually. _Well, there goes the easy way._ He lifted his leg and gave the other man a powerful shove backwards. Cain made a startled sound, which was immediately drowned out when he got sucked into the engine. Churned up a bit, but dead pretty much instantly. Worse ways to go, really. Not that Steve enjoyed doing it.

The next goon was shoved to his knees in front of Steve. He held up the cash “Now, this is the money that Pierce gave us-”

“No, I get it. I’m good. Best thing for everyone, yeah?” He interrupted quickly, not wanting to meet the same fate as Cain. _See, it’s really not that hard to do._

 

“You should have let me do this sooner.” Pietro advised, stitching up Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ve had plenty worse, it’s just - ow!” Steve yelped when he pulled too hard with the thread.

“Sorry.” Pietro apologized quickly.

“No, you’re good. That was some pretty smart thinking back there, doping up Thor. Can’t say how he’ll feel about you when he wakes up.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive me eventually.”

“He does tend to be extra forgiving with you two. Speaking of which, how’s your sister?”

“The same. Sometimes she gets a little uncontrollable, but for the most part, she’s fairly cogent, if not a little bizarre. I’m having a hard time diagnosing what exactly is wrong with her - because there _is_ something wrong. But since I have no idea what they did to her, I have no idea if they succeeded.”

Wanda, just down the hall from the infirmary, was curled up in a corner of her bedroom. Her fists were clenched tightly, knuckles white, as she rocked back and forth slowly, clutching her knees to her chest. “They’re looking,” she whispered. “With eyes, with hands, with guns. They’re looking and sniffing and coming _so close_.”

 

_-Sorry to keep you waiting, there’s always one more crisis-_

_\--We’re not interested. We’re here about a theft._

_-The medicine on that planet? Word came up that it was returned._

_\---We didn’t fly 86 million miles to track down a box of band-aids, colonel._

_\--We’re looking for a girl. This girl._

_The first agent slid the photo towards him with strangely bruised hands. The second agent came next to him, and he saw that he had the same bruises on his hands, and that he had a gun in plain sight, ready to be drawn._

_They really wanted this girl._

 

**END OF EPISODE 2**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the show, Clintasha's counterparts just hugged, but pretending to be married to Steve is very mentally taxing, even to Natasha, and the author is shameless trash, so enjoy your sappy reunion. And despite what he may have said, Steve did like getting slapped, and Bucky knows it. Thor is going to be grumpy for a couple days, and then Wanda's going to do something that reminds him how much of cinnamon rolls they are, and all will be well.  
> Is it just me, or did this chapter seem short?
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> я люблю тебя так сильно = I love you so much  
> чертовски = fucking
> 
> Next Episode: Bushwhacked!


	7. Bushwhacked: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew stumbles upon an abandoned transport ship. The ship is perfectly fine, but something made them clear out quick...  
> Let's go check it out. What could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of the episode is actually quite uneventful, at least when compared to part two. I've had fun reworking this episode, though. Thor is much more enjoyable for me and I feel like Tony is less ooc. We'll see how it goes.   
> Warnings for dead, mutilated bodies, mentions of homicide, and blood.  
> But, as usual, I'm not very graphic.

“Over here!” Clint tossed the ball to Thor, who promptly shot it perfectly through the ring. Tony whooped, clapping her hands. Steve made a dive for it, but was blocked by the Asgardian. Bruce managed to try and take a shot, but Thor’s mass once again got in the way. The game was a little unfair, really. Between Clint’s impeccable aim and Thor’s strength and size, Bruce and Steve were getting their asses handed to them. 

Tony, of course, was being incredibly helpful with all her standing on the sidelines and cheering for no one in particular. And Nat wasn’t playing for any team in particular (though she did like to pick on Clint, obviously), she just liked to let loose and go a little nuts, just like the rest of them. It was a good way to relax, really. A bit of friendly competition, everyone wrestling and yelling and getting sweaty and disgusting. It really distracted from real life. 

Wanda and Pietro were watching from the catwalk, fascinated. This sort of chaotic, unorganized game was foreign to them. Pietro was a runner, and running was a very clear-cut, individual sport. All sports in the central planets were specialized and a had a specific, enforced set of ruled. This was…alien, almost. Even the games he and Wanda had played as children were nothing like that. They were creating scenarios, stories. And ridiculous as they may have sometimes been, in the end, they made sense. Wanda liked watching them, trying to anticipate what they would do next. It was a puzzle to her, not a game. But puzzles were fun. 

Bucky came out of his shuttle, having heard the commotion. He smiled fondly as Tony hopped onto Steve’s back and tossed the ball into the hoop with ease. He walked slowly, taking everything in. It had been a while since they had played like that, and it was good to see one of the newest members of their little family settling in well.

“Hello,” Pietro greeted with a smile.

Bucky smiled back. “Who’s winning?”

“I can’t really tell. They don’t seem to be playing by any civilized rules I know.” He admitted. 

“Well, we’re pretty far from civilization.” Tony was having fun knocking the ball out of the air from her place on Steve. Tony really liked winning, if not having some kind of claim to the rank of ‘better than you’. Sometimes it was endearing, sometimes it was annoying. 

Wanda was leaning over the railing, rapt in what was going on below. “How’s our little lookout, by the way?”

“She’s good. Better, actually. She still refuses to talk about what they did to her at the academy, but she can function.” Wanda’s eyes were bright, feeding off the excitement of the game below.

“Have you ever thought that maybe she’s not sure herself?”

Celebratory whoops came from below as Clint scored. “She dreams about it, I know that much. I’m just worried that I can’t help her, that I can’t give her the stability she needs to heal. I don’t feel like enough.”

“Pietro, you are.” He looked startled by that. “What you did? Leaving your whole world behind? That’s incredibly selfless, not to mention brave.”

“I selflessly turned us both into wanted fugitives.” He said bitterly. “But you’re wrong, I didn’t leave my whole world behind. It’s right here with me.”

Bucky smiled warmly. “You’re one of the lucky few able to say that.” 

Pietro turned to Bucky, question in his eyes. Down below, Steve was trying to wrestle the ball from Clint’s grasp when the alarm went off, blaring and flashing red. “Proximity alert.” Natasha replied breathlessly. “We must be coming up on something.”

“Oh my god. What can it be? We’re all doomed!” Clint cried. “Who’s flying this thing?” He turned to Steve, who was giving him an incredulous look. “Oh right, that would be me.” He tossed the ball to Steve. “Back to work.”

“I guess that makes us one man short.” Tony was smiling, somehow. 

“Little Antonia is always one man short.” Thor joked, earning a punch in the arm, which he reacted to with a very unmanly yelp.

“Hey, I ought to’ve punched you twice; you insulted me in two different ways.” She told him, grinning. “Hey, Maximoff, why don’t you come play for our side?” She called up to Pietro. “Bucky won’t mind.”

 

Clint wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. It was definitely a ship, but it was dead in the water, turning end over end with no sign of power. He sat down and flipped on the console, trying to figure out what it was. In the moment he spared to look up at the ship, a body hit the window. Clint yelped and would’ve probably fallen out of his chair had he not been holding onto the control panel. His momentary panic caused the ship to rock, tripping the other crew members.

Okay, this was definitely not good. 

 

“Clint, did you have a stroke?” Steve demanded, jogging into the bridge. 

“In a sense,” he admitted.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, taking her customary spot right next to him.

It was at that moment that everyone who had just arrived (the entire rest of the crew, sans Wanda) noticed the ship. Just like when Clint had first seen: dead in the water, turning end over end.

“Что за чертовщина?” Thor muttered.

“Is anybody on board?” Steve asked.

“I’ve been hailing, but if whoever’s there is as healthy as the guy we just ran over, I can’t imagine anybody’s gonna be picking up.”

“Get us a little closer.”

“I’ll get you close enough to knock on the front door.” Clint carefully steered them forward.

“What is it?” Pietro asked, half to himself and half to the room. 

Right outside of the bridge, leaning against a wall, Wanda was playing with the sleeves of her dress, looking dead ahead and grinning. She knew. She always knew. Silly Pietro didn’t know. “It’s a ghost,” She whispered, too quiet to be heard by anyone else. 

 

\---

 

“So, what do we think? Transport ship?”

“Converted cargo hauler. Maybe a short-range scow.” Clint suggested.

“She’s not happy about being parked like that.” Tony said, caring more about the ship than people. “See, the port thrust is gone, that’s what’s making her spin like that.” She pointed at the missing part.

“Why would a short-range vessel be this far out in space?” Pietro asked.

“It’s been retrofitted to carry passengers.” Clint explained.

“Travelers pick them up cheap at government auction.” Natasha continued for him. “A few modifications, and they serve well enough for a one-way push to the outer planets.”

“For settlers,” Bruce sounded astonished.

“You can cram 15, 20 families on a boat that size if you pack ‘em tight enough.” Clint had seen it.

“Families?” Bucky’s voice shook slightly.

“Here is what most likely occurred.” Thor piped up, lounging in the captain’s chair. “The man we ran over did them all in. The whole crew, all the passengers. And then he decided to do himself in.”

“You’re a very positive person.” The pilot informed him sarcastically.

“Shouldn’t we report this?” Bruce asked. 

“To whom? Hydra?” Steve scoffed. “Right, because they’re going to run out here as fast as they can and make sure these valuable taxpayers are okay.”

“Then we’ll have to.”

“If there are men on board who require assistance, there should be a distress signal.” Thor countered.

“He’s right,” Nat agreed, “There’s no beacon. No communication at all.”

“Which means it’s likely no one’s looking to find her.” Clint finished.

“All the more reason for us to do the right thing.” Bruce added.

“Send a prayer as we go past.” Thor suggested boredly, inspecting his nails.

“Hitting you with the bible would be more effective, I think.”

“Play nice, kids.” Steve interrupted, ignoring that he was younger than both of them. “Now, there could be survivors. And if not, well, then no one’s going to mind if we take a look around and see if there’s something of value they might’ve left around.” Thor perked up at that suggestion.

 

Pietro froze in his tracks. He had been going to offer his services (Bruce wanted to prep the infirmary, just in case), but stopped when he saw the captain and first mate suiting up. The suits weren’t by any means bad, but what the suits protected  _ from _ …that was plenty bad, not to mention horrifying.

“Ah, young Maximoff.” Thor greeted, hammer resting on his shoulder. “What brings you here?” His tone was friendly, but his eyes were gleaming with concern.

“I, uh - I was going to offer my services. Medical training, you know.” He lifted the blue medical bag in his left hand.

“Well, the captain and Romanoff are going on first. I’m sure they will call if your services, or the doctor’s, are needed.” He saw the way Pietro was eyeing the space suits warily. “Is something the matter?”

Pietro blinked rapidly. “No-I, uh, well.” He stammered. “I suppose it’s just the thought of a little mylar and glass being the only thing separating a person from, well, nothing.”

“It is unsettling,” Thor agreed. “But with care, it is quite safe. And once you have gone out into the void as often as I, it presents as much danger as swimming. Well, perhaps a bit more, but you understand the sentiment.” Pietro nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Thor patted him on the shoulder. “We will not ask for you if it is not necessary, I promise you that.” With the reassurance still hanging in the air, Thor turned and went to join the captain and first mate.

 

The doors opened slowly and with a metallic clanking. As soon as Steve and Natasha passed through, they closed immediately, buzzing to signal the seal. Steve took the few steps across the airlock, pulling open the heavy door separating the two ships.  _ “Entering adjoining airlock now,” _ He reported, nodding to his first mate. The light were all off, and even with the flashlights, it was somewhat difficult to see. The more pressing matter, however, was the other ship’s otherwise closed airlock.  _ “Okay, Clint. Ask ‘Venger to knock for us.” _ Another buzzer went off a moment later and the door slid open.

They entered into a hall, dimly lit, but not completely dark.  _ “Emergency power’s up,”  _ He reported, surprised,  _ “Dashboard light.” _ They rounded a corner, side-stepping a child’s tricycle and a brightly colored ball. The area they entered was much larger, much more open. Probably used for storage, going on the shelves lining the walls. When they turned again, going down the next hall, the first thing Steve’s light hit was a red balloon, still floating a few feet off the floor. Shining further ahead, they saw the dining area.

Full trays were sitting on the tables. People had barely touched their food before they got up and left.  _ “Whatever happened here...it happened quick.” _

A few more hallways lead them to the bridge. All the chairs were empty, turned facing inwards.  _ “Everything was left on,”  _ Natasha noted, seeing the faint green glow of the screens.  _ “The ship powered down on its own. No sign of a struggle, either. They’re just…” _

_ “Gone.”  _ Steve finished. 

Natasha turned around to look at other screens and beckoned him over a moment later.  _ “Personal log. Someone was in the middle of an entry.”  _ Steve nodded, indicating for her to play it.

 

Wanda woke up with a loud gasp, hyperventilating and grabbing fistfulls of her hair. Pietro hurried in, having heard her wake up. She was sobbing, knees pulled up to her chest. He came towards her carefully, making reassuring noises and extending his hands in a gesture of peace.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He whispered, rubbing her arms, sitting next to her on the bed. “Bad dreams again?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I can’t sleep. There’s too much  _ screaming _ .” She confessed with a whimper, sobs calming slightly. 

“Wanda-” He started, licking his lips. “The screaming is gone now. It can’t hurt you.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “It did.” She whispered.

At that moment, Thor knocked on the doorframe, getting Pietro’s attention. “Stark has requested our assistance. Grab your kit, but you need not a suit.”

Pietro sighed in relief. No suits. “They found survivors.”

“They said nothing more.”

“Okay. I’ll ask James to look in on Wanda.”

“Be quick. I will not wait for you at the airlock, but you should find us with ease.”

 

Pietro wasn’t going to lie, he was nervous. It was dark, it was creepy, and he really didn’t like being alone. Thor hadn’t been kidding when he said he wasn’t going to wait, but Pietro couldn’t decide if that was more of a good thing or a bad thing. He walked carefully, making sure to not trip on anything. And if he had yelped when the second airlock door buzzed behind him, well, at least no one was around to see. His breathing was heavy from nerves and the foreignness of the abandoned ship.

The ship was fairly easy to navigate; there weren’t any forks in the halls until after the bridge, apparently. He just followed the halls until he reached the bridge, clutching his red and blue med kit to his side. Pietro was able to keep calm as he passed the children’s toys abandoned on the floor. He was able to shove down his emotions when he saw the uneaten meals. Being alone in long, dark corridors reminded him of the horror stories he’d foolishly let Wanda beg their father to tell them as kids, but the fear didn’t get to him. It was when he reached the bridge that he felt relaxed. Thor, Natasha, Tony, and the captain were standing around calmly in the bridge. If they saw this as no big deal, so could he.

“Hi.” Pietro greeted awkwardly. He set down his flashlight and kit down with a thud.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked.

“I asked for the extra hands.” Tony explained. “I was getting tired of your face.” Thor roared with laughter at her second remark.

“Settle down, we don’t have time for playing.” Steve interrupted. “I’m glad you’re here to help, but I’d like a little warning next time.” He turned to address everyone in the room. “Let’s go and make this quick; only a few loads each. Don’t get greedy.” He emphasized, shooting Thor a pointed look.

“Where are the people?” Pietro asked, shouldering a pack.

“Ship says the lifeboat launched more than a week ago. We’re gonna assume everyone got off okay. Either way, we’re just here to pick off the bones. You two start in the engine room, Thor, take the galley.”

 

“Cap, I counted sixteen families signed on. A lifeboat wouldn’t hold a third of that.” Natasha informed, once the other three crew members had left the room.

“I know.” He conceded, before turning on the radio. “Clint, any luck?”

_ “I think I’ve found something that pretty well matches that class. The layout looks about right. Seems to me that any valuables - if there  _ **_are_ ** _ any - would most likely be stored somewhere…in the “C” deck, aft.” _

“Good work.” He smiled into the speaker. “Keep the engine running. We shouldn’t be long.”

 

Bucky turned into the hall with the spare quarters, going to check in on Wanda. All the doors were closed, which mean she was either asleep or entertaining herself. Or rocking in a corner. Bucky didn’t like to think about dealing with that without her brother.  _ Second on the left _ , he reminded himself. Stopping at the door. He knocked lightly with his flesh hand. “Wanda?” He called. “It’s James. Are you hungry, sweetie?” 

He waited a moment for a reply, then slid the door open. The bed was decently made, but clearly recently used. More importantly, it was empty. In fact, the whole room was empty.

_ Shit, _ Bucky thought.  _ Now you’ve done it, Barnes.  _ “Wanda?” He called again, knowing it was pointless.

 

Wanda stepped carefully through the airlock door. She could feel the pattern of the grating on the bottom of her bare feet. It was dark, but strangely neither hot nor cold. It was that perfect in-between temperature. 

She could hear them. They weren’t screaming, they were living. They weren’t laughing and dancing, but they were smiling and talking. And they were asking her to come explore.

Light was coming through the ceiling from outside, pretending to be the sun. The sun gave life. There wasn’t quite life here.

 

“Aren’t you at least a little curious?” Pietro asked, looking around the engine room, but making sure to keep the light on Tony.

“About what?” The mechanic asked, looking over from where she was looking at a panel.

“About what happened here. I mean, why would anyone abandon a ship in the middle of nowhere like this?”

“All sorts of reasons. Just…not mechanical.” Tony half-whispered those last words to herself.

“What?” Pietro had good hearing, and he was very confused.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with this. Not that I can see, anyway. If it’s not the machine’s fault, then I don’t want to know.” Sparks flew as Tony pulled a part off of the engine, grinning. “There’s a good one. Hold the bag open, will you?” Pietro obliged, but nearly fell over when Tony let go of the part.  _ Ебена мать, that girl is strong. _

 

Down in the galley, Thor was shoving every still-packaged bit of food he could into his bag as quickly as he could. If one or two fell out, oh well. They wouldn’t die because of it. If one or two were a snack for him as he worked, no one would have to know.

 

“This looks like it.” Steve commented with a grin and he and Natasha turned a corner. They stood in front of a large, sealed door. Natasha pressed the ‘open door’ button. When nothing happened, she reported it locked. “Well, I’ll take that as a good sign.” Steve put his pack on the floor and began to pull out tools. 

Natasha stood back as Steve lit a blow torch, black goggles reflecting the flame menacingly. This was one of those things that he did best: breaking down doors in whatever way possible.

The door hit the ground with a satisfying thud. Natasha stepped through, shining a light. Steve followed right behind. The two of them made their way around the room slowly, taking in all they could with the little light they had. Like they’d thought: boxes everywhere. Containers, trunks, the works. Neither could even think of where to start. 

Natasha pulled a tarp off a stack of boxes, revealing a bright red trunk. Something told her not to open it (red wasn’t a good color for her), but she ignored the nagging feeling and flipped the lid open. In it were children’s toys. A doll, some books, a ball, some wooden animals. The trunk had belonged to a child, probably a little girl. Natasha’s stomach clenched. 

Steve, on the other hand, found what he’d been looking for. A stack of containers, tagged with the distinct Hydra logo. “Here,” He called, beckoning the first mate over. “Gen-seed, protein, crop supplements,” Steve listed, reading the labels, “Everything a growing family needs to make a fresh start on a new planet.”

“Hard subsidies for fourteen-plus families.” Natasha marveled. “That’s-”

“About a fortune.” Steve finished. “Forget the rest, we just need this stuff. We’ll need a hand hauling it out of here.” 

Natasha nodded and started walking towards the door. She stopped a half dozen paces from Steve, conscience taking over. “Cap, even on a lifeboat, you’d think those who escaped would find room for some of this.” She didn’t know much about kids, but she knew a thing or two about girls going on without their dolls. 

Steve shone the flashlight off to the side, seeing a shadow. Wanda was standing in the center of the room, out of Natasha’s line of sight, staring up at the ceiling. Steve followed her gaze. “Nobody escaped.” He told her.

“What?” Nat came over to see where he was looking, shining her light up to the ceiling with his.

“Nobody.” Steve echoed, voice hollow. And sure enough, dangling from the rafters there was a group of about seven corpses, hanging upside down, mutilated and pale, swaying slightly in a nonexistent wind.

“Oh, God.” Natasha whispered.

“Я хотел было не так,” Steve croaked. “I know what did this.” He allowed himself a moment of panic before springing into action. “Nat, get her out of here. Thor?” He asked into the radio. 

 

_ “Thor, drop what you’re doing and get to the engine room. I want you to take Tony and Pietro off this boat. No questions.”  _ And he was almost done, too. With a sigh, he set down the cup he’d been holding. The lights flickered for a moment, making him freeze, but quickly went back off. Shrugging, Thor turned around, ready to follow orders, just as the lights flickered back on long enough for him to see a man shout and charge at him.  _ “Thor?” _ Steve’s voice came back on as bowls and cups clattered to the floor, mixed with the Asgardian’s grunts.

 

\---

 

A gunshot went off. 

Now, Clint was still not great at the hearing thing, but even over the comms, he could identify a gunshot. “Captain?” He asked, worried. A few seconds went by. Another gunshot. “Tasha?” He stood up, panicking slightly. Okay, a little more than slightly.

 

“Came from above, Cap.” Natasha reported, gun in one hand, Wanda’s arm in the other. 

“The galley.” Steve began to hurry down the hall, but stopped when he nearly ran into Tony and Pietro. “What are you two doing here?”

“We heard shooting.” Tony explained.

“Wanda,” Pietro hurried over to his sister. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed the voices.” She replied, shrinking slightly at her brother’s less than friendly tone.

“Don’t leave the ship alone, alright?”

“Handle her, will you, son?” Steve wasn’t in the mood for this.

_ “What in the  _ **_текущая ебут_ ** _ is going on?”  _ Clint’s voice demanded over the radio.

“Not now, babe.” Natasha soothed. Back on the bridge, Clint opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving up and sitting back down. Okay, so it was bad.

 

Steve shone the light around, carefully surveying the mess in the galley. Natasha stayed back with Tony and the twins, but kept her gun at the ready. If Steve was honest with himself, his finger was a little too tight on the trigger, but hey, this place was definitely the place to be on your guard. Sensing a sudden movement, Steve raised his gun, and was met with Thor doing the same, covered in grime and sweating.

He uncocked his gun in a gesture of nonviolence. “What’d you see?”

“I did not.” Thor half panted, half growled. “It came at me from behind. Large, very strong.” The crew started shining their lights around, trying to see if they could find Thor’s mystery attacker. “I am certain I landed a blow.”

“You did.” Everyone turned to look where Pietro was looking. On the floor, like little breadcrumbs, were drops of blood, leading to a circular vent.

Steve walked over carefully, taking slow, measured steps. As he approached the vent, a male voice started a mantra of  _ “no, no, please no” _ . Steve shushed and reassured him as he pulled the panel off the wall.

“No one’s gonna hurt you.” Steve promised. “Well, more than we already have.” He added as an afterthought.

“No. No mercy.” The man was curled up, leaning against a grate, shying away from the light flashed in his eyes. “No mercy, no mercy.” He repeated, bringing up his hands to block his face.

“Oh, we’ve got mercy, don’t worry.” Steve told him, inching forward. “We’ve got lots and lots of-” He socked the man in the face, knocking him out cold. Better use of their time. Steve hauled him out of the vent and laid him gently on the ground, flipping him onto his back. The man’s arm was bleeding, and he was grimy, but otherwise he looked fine. He wasn’t particularly large, either. An average-sized man, not particularly muscular.

“Oh, yes. He’s a real beast. It’s a wonder your still alive.” Pietro commented sarcastically, looking over at Thor.

“He looked larger in the dark.”

 

“I wonder how long he lived like that.” Bucky mused, looking into the infirmary through one of the windows. The survivor was on the chair, still unconscious, being treated by Bruce while Steve stood by.

“Don’t know. He must be tough, though. Being the only one to survive like that when nobody else did.” Tony had been braiding and unbraiding pieces of her hair for the last twenty minutes, and she was grateful to have something to say.

“Ah, yes, a true champion. He should be honored throughout eternity for the way he so valiantly slaughtered his entire crew.” Thor grumbled from the chair he was lounging in, eyes closed. Natasha fixed him with a glare.

“What?” Tony cried. “We don’t believe that.” She looked around, at Natasha in particular, for some support. She found none. “We don’t, right?”

“Cap wouldn’t have brought him on board if that were the case.” Natasha said evenly. That’s all she knew.

 

“Pulse is rapid. Blood pressure’s on the high side of normal - that’s to be expected.” Bruce reported, beginning to peel off his gloves.

“Weak. They were all weak.” The man murmured, breathing heavily.

Bruce ignored him and headed to the sink to wash his hands. “Other than the bullet wound, there doesn’t appear to be any exterior trauma. Though that crack to the head you gave him probably won’t do him any favors.”

“Cattle. Like cattle to the slaughter.” Seriously, how was Bruce ignoring this guy’s ramblings? 

Steve looked out the window, where Tony and Bucky were looking in, faces painted with worry. He swallowed hard. “Dope him.” He ordered, eyes not leaving his crewmembers. 

“I don’t think that’s-” Bruce began to protest.

“Just do it.”

“No mercy. No resistance.” That seemed to get the doctor’s attention. He unzipped a bag and pulled out a hypo full of tranquilizer. As Bruce was injecting it into his arm, the man sat up and grabbed him by the elbow. “Open up. See what’s inside.” Bruce gently removed his arm as he drifted off into sleep, whispering “No mercy”.

 

“So? How’s our patient?” Tony asked as Steve and Bruce entered the lounge just outside the infirmary.

“Actually, aside from borderline malnutrition, he’s in surprisingly good health, all things considered.” Bruce reported, addressing the room more than he did Tony.

“So he’ll live, then.” Pietro concluded, smiling slightly.

“Which, if you ask me, is unfortunate.” Steve added, drawing full attention to himself.

“Not a very charitable attitude, Captain.”

“Charity would be putting a bullet straight through his skull.”

“Steve!” Bucky breathed.

Met the Companion’s gaze, jaw set and eyes steely. “It’d save him the suffering.” He turned back and slid the infirmary doors closed, locking them securely. “Alright, nobody goes in here now. There’s nothing more we can do for him now, not after what he’s seen.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce frowned, confused.

“That ship was hit by Chitauri.” He stated, turning and going up the stairs, not looking back.

“Chitauri?” Thor stood up, surprised.

“Сукин сын.” Clint muttered. The crew looked towards the man in the infirmary, suddenly much more afraid.

 

“Steve, how can you know?” Bucky demanded, entering the dining area, the rest of the crew following.

“He does  _ not _ ; that is how.” Thor insisted. “It’s not possible. It must have been the other man, the one we hit. Like I said. He went mad, killed the rest, then decided he was done.”

“Just a minute ago you said that-” Tony started.

“Forget what I said before. It was not Chitauri. Chitauri do not leave survivors. Not ever.”

“Strictly speaking, I wouldn’t say they did.” Steve argued, taking a sip from a mug of water.

“What are you suggesting?” Bruce asked, not liking where this was going.

“It doesn’t matter that we took him off that boat, Doctor Banner. It’s where he’s going to live from now on.”

“I can’t accept that. Whatever horrors he saw, whatever barbarism he encountered, it was the acts of men, nothing more. You’re talking about monsters.”

“They are monsters.” Thor insisted. “They are not human in any way.”

“They’re people. People that have been removed from civilization too long.”

Steve sighed, setting down his mug. “Look, I know you’re fond of the ‘greater power’ shit, but Chits wouldn’t really agree with that philosophy. They’d be too busy gnawing on your insides. Thor’s right. Chits ain’t men. And if they ever were, they’ve forgotten how to be.” He sat down, scooching in the chair. “They’re nothing. They got far out enough in space, to the edge of the galaxy, to that place of nothing, and that’s what they became.”

“This isn’t about any theistic beliefs I have, captain.” Bruce spat. “All monsters are human, and that monstrosity came from somewhere. You’re much too black and white with your beliefs.”

Steve raised an eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, yeah? Enlighten us, doctor. What makes you our expert on monsters?”

There was a palpable tension in the room for several moments before Clint spoke up. “Why are we still sitting here? If it’s Chits, shouldn’t we be getting the hell out of dodge?” He was anxious to get flying.

“Work’s not done. There’s still a hefty profit sitting on that ship.” Steve explained as if it was obvious.

“I am not going back onto that ship.” Thor insisted. “Not with all the dead, particularly not if Chitauri got their hands on them.”

“Thor,” Natasha silenced, voice icy. “Don’t be such a chicken.”

“I’ll go.” Bruce volunteered. “I’ve dealt with bodies; they don’t rattle me.”

“I can help.” Pietro offered.

“Alright. I’m sure you’ll want to say a little something or other as well, and I’m even more sure that at least two of my crew will have my hide if I deny you that, so before you ask, yes.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thor, you go with Doctor Banner and the kid, help them cut down the bodies, and then get to work on the cargo.”  

Thor glared at him. “We are remaining here for a  _ funeral _ ? Have you gone mad?”

“Yes and probably. But that you already knew.” He stood up, walking towards the merc. “I don’t want these people looking over my shoulder, Chit food or not. Now, I’m not saying there’s any peace greater than death, but on the off chance that there is, these people deserve a little bit of it.” Thor stormed off, grumbling to himself.

Bucky grinned, coming to stand in front of Steve. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out.” He whispered, flesh hand brushing against Steve’s left arm. A second later, he was gone. Steve wasn’t entirely sure if it happened.

Tony was smiling at him knowingly. “Sweet and poetic. Man, he’s done a number on you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a ritual type of guy.” Clint teased. At this point, it was just Steve, Tony, Natasha, and Clint in the galley.

“I’m not. But it’ll keep the others busy for a while. No need to concern them with what needs to be done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn! What could that mean??  
> Did you guys catch my pseudo-Hulk reference there at the end? If not, that's fine.  
> For those of you that haven't seen the show, the game they were playing at the beginning was like a free-for-all kind of basketball. There's literally no other way I could describe it.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> Что за чертовщина? = What the hell is this?  
> Ебена мать = holy shit   
> Я хотел было не так = I wish I was wrong  
> текущая ебут = actual fuck  
> Сукин сын = son of a bitch


	8. Bushwhacked: Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go okay, and then everything is awful. It gets a little more awful, then it settles back into okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay short chapter! (I think)  
> However, this one does need warnings for depictions of violence, gore, and Wanda Maximoff being a cinnamon roll.  
> I'm also kind of not subtle at all about certain characters being in love with each other but having their heads too far in their asses to do anything about it. And no, it's not just Steve and Bucky this time.

“You know, sometimes, I really hate being right.” Steve sighed, grimacing at the image on the screen.

“What the hell is that?” Clint demanded, seeing the twisting wires attaching _Avenger_ to the other ship.

“Booby trap. Chits sometimes leave them for the rescue ships.” He explained. “We triggered it when we latched on.”

“And when we detach?” Clint really didn’t want to know the answer.

“It blows.” Yep, definitely didn’t want to know.

“Okay, so we don’t detach. We just sit tight until…”

“Until the Chitauri come back?” Natasha finished. “I don’t think so.”

“Looks like they’ve jerry-rigged it with a pressure catch.” Tony informed, studying the grainy image. “It’s the only thing that’d work with all these spare parts, anyway. We could probably bypass that easy if we can get to the DC line.”

This Steve liked the sound of. “Alright, you tell me, Tony. Do you really think you can do this?”

“Sure, yeah. I think so.” She glanced back at the screen nervously. “Besides, if I mess up, it’s not like you can yell at me.”

Clint chuckled nervously. Yeah, they’re all doomed.

 

Bruce and Pietro watched as the bodies descended to the floor. Thor was up above, feeding the chain as quickly as he could without being reckless. All three of them were wearing masks, to protect not only from the smell, but from whatever unpleasant surprises the Chitauri may have left. No one really knew how you became Chitauri, but no one was going to risk finding out, either.

 

Back on the ship, Tony pulled her hair into a ponytail before stepping into the open hatch in the cargo bay. Natasha and Steve stood on the edge, watching her work, as Clint handed her the tool she needed, carefully following every instruction.

In his shuttle, Bucky was carefully writing a letter in Russian, making the words as neat as he could, just so he could have something to focus on that wasn’t impending doom. Every so often, he would look back to check on Wanda, sleeping semi-peacefully in his bed. Her head would twitch, but she wasn’t screaming, so that was something.

The survivor, on the other hand, wasn’t faring so well. He was moaning and panting, crying out to both someone and no one. He strained against imaginary restraints, still repeating his mantra of “no mercy, no mercy”. Eventually, the moaning turned into laughter. Mad, inhuman laughter.

Tony crawled through the belly of the ship, carefully avoiding clusters of wires and machinery that hung in the way. She focused as much as she could on the task at hand, not thinking about what would happened if she made even the smallest mistake.

Eventually, the mad laughter stopped and the man’s eyes flew open, awake.

A few decks above, at that exact moment, Wanda woke with a start, gasping loudly and whimpering. Bucky ran to her side, shushing and cooing. He pulled her to his chest, stroking her hair.

The man shoved a tray of medical equipment to the ground and Wanda screamed. He picked up a scalpel.

 

Thor was careful to avoid the bodies as he rolled the trolley of boxes past. Pietro and Bruce had just finished laying them out, and they were all covered in brown sheets they’d found in a sleeping area. Though they’d both hated doing it, they had checked over the bodies for a common cause of death. It varied from slashed throats to blunt force trauma to getting stabbed in the liver, but in the end, it was obvious that they were all victims of extreme violence. Bruce had a pocket Bible tucked into his pack just a few feet away, but it felt like too little too late. Words, no matter how holy some believed them to be, could not change the monstrosities these people had witnessed in their last moments of life.

 

Tony hesitated. Cutting the wire should work, she knew the odds were in her favor, but she was still scared. She remembered all the times when she was little and had thought the odds were in her favor, only to have everything blow up in her face; sometimes quite literally. Drawing a deep breath, she shook out the negative thoughts and snipped the tube. Thick red fuel (that looked too much like blood for her tastes, generally) spilled out from the line, and she could practically feel the release as the snake-like traps retracted. Tony smiled. She’d done good. More importantly, she hadn’t gotten everyone killed.

 

“What is this? What’s happening?” Thor inquired as he came back onto the ship, pulling the trolley of cargo. The compartment in the floor was closing, Tony having already climbed back out.

“Well, as of right now, nothing.” Steve replied nonchalantly. “Right, Tony?”

“Not a thing.” She replied, giving him a small smile.

“I was given the impression of a thing.” Thor protested.

“I thought we had a situation for a moment,” Steve conceded, “but it’s been taken care of. Now, get that merchandise loaded up!”

Steve jogged over and closed the airlock doors as Thor, Pietro, and Bruce loaded the crates into the smuggling compartment in the wall. “Everyone’s home, Clint. Let’s get out of here.” He called into the intercom.

Of course, at that moment, the proximity alert started blaring. Again. Everyone froze, all thinking the same thing. _Chitauri._

“And the Chitauri appear to have returned.” Thor growled, masking the panic quickly rising in him.

“Get that stored.” Steve ordered, taking off up the stairs to the bridge. “Don’t argue with me, just do it!” Natasha ran up after him.

 

“Chits?” Steve asked, running up the stairs to the bridge. He stopped in the doorway. Nope; worse. A Hydra cruiser.

 _Firefly class transport, you are ordered to release control of your helm. Prepare to dock and be boarded._ A male voice drawled over the intercom.

Natasha wrapped her arms around Clint’s shoulders as he leaned back in his seat, having given up control of the ship.

“Looks like civilization finally caught up with us.” Steve growled before turning on his heel and storming out of the bridge.

 

_-No mandatory registration markings on the bow. Make sure we cite them for that._

_\--Sir, we’ve identified the transport ship they were attached to. It was licensed to a group of families out of Bernadette. They were due to touch down in Newfall three weeks ago; never made it._

_-Once we secure these vultures, we’ll check it out._

_\---Sir, didn’t we have a tag on a Firefly a while back?_

_-Check._

_\---Uh, here it is. An alert issued on an unidentified Firefly-class believed to be carrying two fugitives: a brother and a sister._

_-What are they wanted for?_

_\---Let’s see. It’s not available. It’s classified._

_-Forty thousand of these old wrecks in the sky, and this is all they give us. I’m not about to have any surprises on a routine check. We run into these two, we shoot first. Brass can sort it out later._

 

“What was it?” Thor asked, seeing Steve return.

“Open the stash. Pull out the goods.” He ordered, not bothering to explain. Thor glowered at him. He had _just_ closed the panel.

“What for?”

“Don’t argue with me now, just do it. In about two minutes’ time, we’ll be up to our necks in Hydra.” At hearing that, Thor sprang into action, pulling the door off the compartment.

Pietro’s mouth fell open. “No,” he croaked. “We’ve got to run.”

“We can’t run, Pietro. They’re pulling us in.”

“If they find us, they’ll send Wanda back to that _place_. She’d be tortured. I’d never see her again!”

“Stack everything in plain sight. I don’t want them thinking we’ve got anything to hide.” Steve instructed, ignoring Pietro’s worrying. “Don’t want to give those sons of bitches the wrong impression.”

“Or the right one.” Clint added, taking a box from the captain.

“That too, Barton. Now, Pietro, go run and grab your sister.”

“What?” Pietro was confused. Confused and scared. Not a good combination. “Why, are you going to put her in plain sight too?”

“Don’t get defensive here, just do as I say.” Steve’s face hardened.

“Is that why you let us stay? So you can use us as bargaining chips? No, they’re not taking her, and you’re not giving her to them!”

“Don’t be a fool, Piet.” Bruce stood in Pietro’s line of sight, blocking his view of Steve. “Just do as he says.” The doctor’s normally warm brown eyes were stony and full of warning.

 

\---

 

The doors opened, and the Hydra soldiers were met by seven crewmembers, all standing in a line, Steve at the front. The first group of soldiers broke off and began searching the crewmembers, getting rid of weapons and checking for any that may be concealed.

“Well, this is definitely special treatment.” Steve commented as the officer (the only one not in tactical gear) came in and surveyed the cargo bay. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we were dangerous.”

“Is this your vessel?” The officer demanded, coming to stand in front of Steve.

He put on his best friendly smile. “It is; I bought and paid for it myself. I’m Captain Steve Rogers.”

“And is this everyone, captain?” The officer barely spared everyone else a glance. He radiated authority, dressed in the pristine red and black Hydra uniform, looking Steve dead in the eye without fail, and speaking in a way that screamed ‘I’m better than you’. Steve really didn’t like this guy.

“In terms of crew, yes.” Well, everyone but two, but he didn’t need to know that. They didn’t really have a specific role, so they were more passengers than crew. Yeah, that was sound logic. Steve wasn’t technically lying. “In our infirmary you’re gonna find a man we rescued off that derelict. Saved him, I guess you could say.” The officer hummed and nodded for a soldier to go confirm his story. “Straight back, through the common area.” Steve called after him. Sometimes he wondered if in front of the infirmary was a good place to have a lounge, but then he remembered that they couldn’t really put it anywhere else. Not without putting couches in the kitchen.

“And these item, I take it you rescued them as well.” The officer gestured to the stamped crates sitting in a stack next to Steve.

Steve gave him a sarcastic smile. “Well, we couldn’t leave them all alone, could we?”

 

The infirmary was a mess. A bloody sheet on top of the chair in the center of the room, medical instruments thrown everywhere. And the lights were off, giving the whole place an eerie blue glow. At seeing the damage, the soldiers instantly raised their guns, already on alert. Sinister laughter was coming from somewhere in the room, but they couldn’t tell where. After a moment of searching, one of the soldiers spotted the man.

If it even was a man.

It didn’t really look human.

 

“Looks to me like this is an illegal salvage operation.”

“It does? That’s discouraging.” Steve was doing his best not to sound too sarcastic. Natasha tended to be much better at these things.

“Yeah, and it’s Hydra property, too. You could lose your ship, Captain. But that is a wrist slap compared to the penalty for harboring fugitives. A brother and a sister. If I searched this vessel, I wouldn’t find them, would I?”

Steve shook his head curtly. “No, sir. No children on this boat.”

“Mmm. I didn’t say children.” Steve could’ve laughed at the officer’s annoyed tone. “Siblings. Adult siblings. Twins, actually.”

“I misunderstood.” Steve apologized.

The officer pressed his lips together into a line and turned around to look at the soldiers gathered behind him, guns trained at Steve’s crew. “No chance they could have stowed away, is there? No one would blame you for that, Captain.” He turned back around. _Oh, so this is his game_. “I know how these older-model Fireflies tend to have troublesome little nooks.”

“Do they?” Yeah, Steve really didn’t like this guy.

“Mm-hmm. Smugglers and the like tend to prefer them for that exact reason.” He put emphasis on _smugglers_.

At that moment, one of the soldiers sent to the infirmary pushed his way through the line of crew members and went to stand next to the officer. They turned around, and the soldier started whispering urgently into his ear. Everyone held their breath, terrified of what could or was to come. Tony’s fingers even started twitching anxiously. Bruce reached over and squeezed her hand gently.

“We will settle this in a more official capacity.” Steve rolled his eyes as a soldier grabbed him roughly by the arm. _Great._ “I want every inch of this junker tossed.”

“Junker?” Even when being hauled away by Hydra goons, Tony would kill a man for insulting _Avenger_.

“Settle down, Tony.” Steve really didn’t want them getting into any more trouble.

“But Cap, did you hear what that lizard goon called Avvie?” She whined.

“Not now!” He really didn’t have time for this. As a kid, Steve had wished for siblings. Now that he had Tony (and the twins), he was really glad he never had any.

  
Soldiers tore through the ship, looking through every room and checking for any possible smuggling holes. A med team was brought in to take out the survivor. With a few men and some sedatives, they were able to get him on a gurney and off the ship.

 

“So, you are a Companion, correct?”

“Yes.” Bucky was waiting for the comment on his gender. He did his best not to fiddle with the [red star dangling from either ear](https://img0.etsystatic.com/114/0/7709499/il_214x170.880544666_12gv.jpg). They’d shown up in a box on his bed a few months previously, right after the crew did a job involving taking some jewels from a fat old baroness who supposedly wouldn’t miss them all that much. The red star had previously been a secret indicator of Shield members, of independents, before the white and blue eagle had become standard. It didn’t take too much brainwork to guess who the earrings had been from. He wore them all the time.

“So, you were based in Sihnon for years, but traveled frequently, and it’s only in the past year that you’ve been shipping out with _The Avenger_ , correct?”

“It’s just _Avenger_. And yes, your information is correct.” Bucky was wearing his formal, friendly smile. “In a few weeks, it will be exactly a year.” He tugged on the right earring. “Why is this important?”

“Just trying to put the pieces together. It’s a curiosity, really. It’s not often you see male Companions, and much less so outside of central planets. I think it’s safe to say it’s a one in a billion to see a man of stature such as yourself falling in with…these types.” And there it was.

“Not in the least. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. I rent the shuttle from Captain Rogers, which allows me to expand my client base, and the captain finds that having a Companion on board opens certain doors that might otherwise be closed to him.”

“And do you love him?” That was a first.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” Natasha had her arms crossed and was giving him her best death glare.

“Well, he’s your husband.”

“Yes.” Fact.

“And you two met through Captain Rogers?”

“Cap was looking for a pilot. I found a husband. It worked out.” Fact.

“You fought with Rogers in the war?” This conversation was definitely not getting any more pleasant.

“I fought with a lot of people in the war.” Technically a fact. Natasha still gritted her teeth.

“And your husband.”

“Sometimes I fight with him, too.”

The officer finally picked up on the malice she was exuding. “Is there any particular reason as to why you don’t wish to discuss your marriage?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business. We’re very private people.”

 

“The legs,” Clint chuckled. “Oh yeah, it was definitely the legs. You can write that down. The legs, and right where her legs meet her back.” He mimed the curve in the air, smiling as he did. “That whole area. Everything about her, really.” Clint could talk about Natasha for a month straight and not get sick of it, but right now he just didn’t want to talk about himself. “Have you seen what she wears? Forget it, forget it. Have you ever _been_ with a warrior woman?”

 

“Six gerstlers crammed right under every cooling drive so that you strain your primary artery function, and you end up having to recycle secondary exhaust through a bypass system just so you don’t end up pumping it through the main atmofeed and asphyxiating the entire crew. Now, _that’s_ junk. Not my Avvie.” The officer was looking at her incredulously. Was this girl even real? She was _still_ hung up on an offhand comment?

 

Thor leaned back casually in the chair, gaze never leaving the officer. He said nothing and drummed his fingers boredly against his arm. As much as he would love to punch the man in the face, he couldn’t, so silence it was.

 

“Pirates. Pirates with their own Osirian-trained doctor. That’s an oddity.”

Bruce shrugged. “Not the strangest thing to happen in this end of space, Commander. Things aren’t quite as plain as on the central planets. Rules are a bit…fuzzier, I daresay.”

“These fugitives we’re looking for, the brother and the sister. They were last seen on Melinoe.”

“Is that so?” Well, better than dragging Charles into this.

“It is. And they were seen leaving on a Firefly-class ship, right around the same time you shipped out with _Avenger_.”

“Well, Melinoe’s a big place.”

“Yes. Yes it is. And that Firefly isn’t. And if anyone’s hiding anywhere on there, we _will_ find them.”

“All due respect, I really don’t think it’s me you should be trying to intimidate.”

 

The soldiers had torn through all the crew quarters, pulling open drawers, turning over bunks. Personal effects were on the floor, several of Nat’s favorite knives had been confiscated, as well as a few of Thor’s prized guns. Bucky’s room had been left relatively intact, but only because of his status. Most of the soldiers were now in the dining area, going through all the doors and cubbies, just for the sake of being thorough.

Little did they know, however, that they shouldn’t have been looking anywhere on board. Wanda and Pietro were on the ship, yes, but not the inside. They were right outside, wearing space suits, clinging to the edge of the ship. Pietro was breathing heavily, trying not to panic at the thought of what would happen would he let go or if there was even the slightest crack in any part of the suit. He turned to look at Wanda, and his panic instantly melted away. She was looking at the stars, eyes brighter than he had seen in a long time. She wasn’t focusing on the immediate danger, whether from the endless vacuum of space or from the dozens of trained soldiers looking for them. She just saw the hundreds of twinkling light, millions of light years away. Like magic.

Pietro felt sick if he looked over, but seeing the elation on his sister’s face was definitely calming. It was moments like this that they balanced each other out. Pietro was worried enough for the both of them, and Wanda was relaxed enough for three.

 

\---

 

Steve, of course, was last. The commander came in, flipping through papers. He stood behind the chair opposite Steve, still reading and making a point to not look at him.

“So, I’m guessing you’ve had a look at the derelict by now.”

“Yes. Terrible thing.” Still not looking up.

“If you want my advice, don’t bother towing it back. Just blast it away, be done with it.”

“That ship is evidence. I don’t make a habit of destroying evidence.” Still not looking up.

“Of course not.” Steve mumbled. “It’d be against the rules.” He sighed, leaning forward. “I’m gonna take a gamble here and say this is your first tour out here on the border.” That got his attention. He slammed the clipboard down on the tabletop and fixed Steve with a glower.

“It’s a very loyal crew you have here.” The commander commented dryly. Steve gave him a smirk. “And I can see from your record that you have a tendency to inspire that certain… _quality_ in people. Sergeant.”

“It’s not a Sergeant anymore. War’s over.”

“For some, the war will _never_ be over.” That’s because the horrors of war never leave you. “I notice your ship’s called _Avenger_. You were stationed on Hera at the end of the war. The battle of Avengers Canyon took place there, if I recall.”

“You know, I think you might be right.” Steve slipped some mock-surprise into his voice.

“The independents suffered a pretty crushing defeat there. And some say that after Avengers, the bluecoats were through. That the war ended in that canyon. It seems odd that you would name your ship after a battle you were on the wrong side of.”

“It was the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.”

The commander took a few slow, deliberate steps toward Steve. “Is that why you attacked that ship?”

“What?” Steve hadn’t expected that.

“You’re still fighting the same battle, Sergeant. Only those weren’t soldiers murdered. They were civilians, _families_ , citizens loyal to Hydra. They were just trying to make a new life, but you can’t stand for that, can you?”

“So, we attack that ship, then bring the only survivor to our infirmary?” This guy just wanted to arrest them. “Is that what we did?”

“I’d ask him. Only I’m not sure if he’d be able to say much, what with his tongue being split down the middle.”

“Он превратился в один.” Steve muttered, eyes wide.

“I’m as impressed as I am repulsed, Sergeant Rogers. I haven’t seen that kind of torture since - well, since the war.”

“Oh, I should have known.” Steve was chastising himself, not paying attention to the commander.

“You and your crew are bound by law. Formal charges will be submitted to central authority.” Attention’s back.

“Commander, I’m not what you need to be concerned about right now. If things keep going the way they are, there’s going to be blood.”

 

Blood was everywhere. The man was covered in cuts and scratches and stab wounds, bleeding profusely. Doctors were rushing everywhere, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to get him oxygen, trying to slow his heart. His pulse was hammering, his vitals were way off, and he would not go to sleep. The man started spasming, his heart rate picking up even more, if that was possible. Doctors and attendants rushed to his side, trying to hold him down. One of his arms hung loosely over the side of the table, but no one paid it any mind. They were much too busy trying to save his life.

So, of course, they didn’t notice when the blade slipped out of his sleeve and into his palm.

But they did notice when he started using on the people surrounding him.

His heart rate went back to normal.

 

\---

 

“Chitauri?” The commander looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You heard me.”

The commander finally sat down, deciding he was done physically looking down on Steve and could just try and do it verbally. “You have no idea how often men in my position hear that excuse: Chitauri did it.”

“It’s the truth.” Steve insisted, reining in the desperation trying to crawl its way up his throat to settle on his tongue.

“You saw them, then?”

“Wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if I had.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.” At the end of the day, all Hydra officers were the same thing: condescending douchebags. And they all deserved a nice strong punch to the face, if not somewhere more sensitive.

“I’ll tell you who did, though,” Steve leaned forward, “That poor son of a bitch you took off my ship. He looked right into the face of it and was forced to stare.”

“It.” There was a question in the commander’s eyes, just not in his voice.

“The darkness. The kind of darkness you can’t even imagine.” Which is saying something, supposing that he works for Hydra, which had near single-handedly privatized darkness. “Blacker than the space it moves through.”

“Very poetic.” Assholes, every one of them. And that was an insult to assholes. Steve actively  _liked_ assholes. Hell, he was an asshole most days.

“They made him watch.” Steve shifted the chair slightly closer, trying to get his point across. “He probably tried to turn away, but they wouldn’t let him. You call him a survivor. He’s _not_.” Steve swallowed hard. “If a man comes up against that kind of dark, if you ask me, the only way to deal with it is to become it. He’s following the only course left for him.

“First he’ll try to make himself look like one. Cut on himself, desecrate his flesh.” Steve didn’t like thinking about the process, but he had to know. “And then…he’ll start acting like one.”

The commander stared at him contemplatively for a moment before pressing a button on the machine in front of him, causing one of the soldiers to come up and stand beside Steve. “Let’s have _two_ M.P.’s come up here to escort Sergeant Rogers to the brig. The soldier walked away with a nod.

Steve felt like screaming.

 

Wanda shook out her hair as the helmet came off, smiling brightly. “Let’s go again.” She insisted, giving Pietro that same childish grin she always would wear when she saw him after a long time apart. If he could, he would have kissed the sky for giving him that part of his sister back.

“Later.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Maybe. The captain said that once the coast is clear, we should lay low in the shuttle. Come on, kрасавица.”

“Coming back.” It was both a question and a statement.

“Of course they are. They all are.” Pietro reassured, taking her hand. “And we’re going to be safe.”

 

“Don’t worry, the proceeds of the sale will be applied to the cost of your defense.” The commander smirked at the M.P.’s dragged Steve to his feet. An officer came over and whispered in his ear, and the smirk fell right off his face. “Get him out of here! Go on full lockdown. I want guards on the nursery.” He headed for the door.

“It won’t matter!” Steve cried, straining against the men holding him. “You won’t find him, but I know where he’ll go.”

 

Pietro paused at the sight of the dining area. It was a mess, tables and chairs overturned, food packets on the floor, plates, mugs, and utensils scattered everywhere. Ah, well, they could clean it up later. Right now, they had to get to the shuttle. “No, don’t! Don’t.” Wanda a cried, pulling him back from walking through.

“Wanda, it’s fine. They’re gone. We’re all alone.” So much for the star remedy.

“No. Just…wait. Wait here.”

Pietro grabbed her hand. “They’re all gone, Wanda. It’s okay. Come on.” She kept pulling against him, not wanting to go in. She was on the verge of tears now, and while Pietro hated seeing her cry, he had to get them safe. She protested as he set down the helmet occupying one of his hands, but silenced when he held his palms up calmingly. “You don’t have to be afraid, Wanda.”

 

Like Steve had thought. The guards standing sentry at the entrance to _Avenger_ were dead, throats cut. The Chit was on the hunt, and he’d come back to familiar grounds to do it. Steve told the commander as much.

“Alright.” The commander nodded, “Now take him to the brig.”

“No, no, no. I should go with you.” Steve argued, digging in his heels, both metaphorically and literally.

“That’s out of the question.”

“How many more men do you feel like losing, Commander? Nobody knows my girllike I do. I can help you.”

The other man thought for a moment, face giving away nothing. “We let him go first.” He told the M.P.’s.

“Right.” Of fucking course. “You want to, uh.” He turned around, letting the commander uncuff him, only to cuff his hands in front of him as opposed to behind. “Thanks. Now I’ll _really_ have the advantage.” Assholes. All of them. Giant, flaming, multi-headed assholes.

And boy, is that some strong imagery.

Steve went first, carefully stepping over the dead guard. Awkwardly, he pushed open the door to the airlock and almost took comfort in the familiar way it squeaked. Almost. Not even the familiarity of home could change the danger of their situation. Nothing could change the fact that an inhuman  _thing_ could jump out at any moment and snuff Steve out like a candle, and take all these evil men with it. If Steve died,  _maybe_ they'd let Nat have the ship. Clint would get to stay with her, since he's the husband and got his pilot's license completely legally. Tony's honestly trained, so they'd probably let her go, too. Bucky would be forced to stay with the Cruiser until the reached the nearest planet civilized enough for Hydra's tastes, and Bruce would either get to keep wandering with the crew or get sent off somewhere he could be carefully watched. 

It was Thor and the twins Steve was worried about. If the twins were found, Pietro would be arrested and Wanda would be taken back to the hellhole her brother had given up everything to free her from. And Thor...well, Steve didn't know the full story, but he knew that if Thor went back to Asgard, he was dead. And with his record, Steve didn't have a single doubt Hydra would send him back given half a chance.

And that was the best-case scenario. 

 

“We don’t have much time, and once we’re settled down, we won’t be able to move much.” Pietro insisted, tugging on his sister’s hand. “I’m just going to grab us some food in case there's a long wait-” He froze as he heard the distinct banging sounds of people moving around. “Someone’s coming.” He whispered, more to himself than anything.

 

Steve walked slowly, tense and admittedly a bit jumpy. He turned down towards the galley, stopping for a second to glare at the commander for having his men destroy it. He went it, sticking to the left wall and surveying the room while soldiers did the same on the other side. Steve really, really hoped that the twins were safe and hidden. He saw a helmet sitting on a counter next to the opposite door, so he at least knew that they had come back inside. Holding up a hand to keep the other men in place, Steve walked up the stairs. He looked over down the hall to the left and saw the twins, still in their suits (sans helmet), pressed up against the wall, perfectly still. Pietro’s eyes were full of fear.

Steve’s brain began to race, trying to figure out how he could distract long enough to let them get away. He turned back to look at the commander.

And a man-like figure came charging out with a battle cry, launching himself at a soldier.

Blood, hot and red, sprayed onto the commander’s face faster than anyone could react.

From there, the ~~man~~ Chitauri shoved aside another soldier and knocked the commander onto his back, making an inhuman noise. Had he not been so scared, the commander probably would have vomited right then and there. Steve had said he would self-mutilate, but not to this extent. His arms were covered in scratches, with some patches of flesh missing entirely, and his clothes were red with blood. Its face was the worst, though. He hadn’t just mutilated, he’d decorated.

Needles and pins were sticking out of his cheeks and eyebrows like piercings. On one spot, just below his cheekbone, he had sliced clean through his cheek in a near perfect circle, and even more of the pins were sticking through, as if holding the wound open. The commander remembered his split tongue from earlier, and realized that he did it to himself. The amount of pain that it must have caused him, to take a blade and turn it on himself until he was unrecognizable…the commander couldn’t fathom it.

The commander was about to accept death, or give into fear, or _something_ when the ~~Sergeant~~ Captain came up from behind, digging the chain of the handcuffs into the Chitauri’s throat. He pulled it off of the commander and promptly snapped its neck. He lay down the body carefully and then turned to the commander, disgust painted on his face. The commander, the man who acted like he was better, was on the ground, quivering, and covered in blood. The captain, the man who had been treated like dirt and handcuffed, was standing tall, radiating strength. Ah, irony.

 

\---

 

 _Avenger_ detached smoothly, picking up speed immediately and getting as far away from the cruiser as fast as possible. Steve, Clint, Natasha, and Thor were up in the bridge, watching the ever-familiar stars.

“What poor gratitude.” Thor grumbled. “You save the man’s life and yet he takes from you what is yours.”

“Well, he may be a какашка like the rest, but he was doing his job. He couldn’t let us profit. Wouldn’t be civilized.” Steve turned and left just as the cruiser opened fire, destroying the derelict ship in bright bursts of green and chunks of flying debris. The passengers were as at rest as they would ever be, but at least that physical remnant of darkness was as gone as it would ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come play with me on [ tumblr ](http://girlofshadowsandstars.tumblr.com/) !  
> The next episode is a personal favorite, mostly because it's very OTP-centric, but because it's a great story. I'll try to get it up quickly, but I'm going to be puppy-sitting through early next week, so my hands may get a little full. Time will tell!
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases:  
> Он превратился в один = He’s turned into one  
> Красавица = beauty  
> какашка = piece of shit
> 
> Next episode: Shindig


	9. Shindig: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve an Tony get to infiltrate a high-class party for a job. Bucky's there, too. Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should've been up earlier, but alas, I am a lazy piece of shit. And until late yesterday, I was puppysitting for a neighbor. Nine week old dog. High-maintenance.  
> And this is in my top 3 favorite episodes, so I had to get this chapter just the way I wanted it!
> 
> Warnings for fistfighting, negative mentions of prostitution, referenced transphobia, and minor NSFW

_Here’s how it is: Earth got used up, so we terraformed a whole new galaxy of Earths - some rich and plush with the new technologies, some not so much. The central planets, they formed an alliance called Hydra and waged war to bring everyone under their rule. A few idiots tried to fight it, among them myself._

_I’m Steve Rogers, captain of_ Avenger _. I’ve got a good crew: fighters, mechanic, pilot. We even picked up a doctor and a bona fide Companion. There’s a would-be neurologist too. Took his twin sister out of some Hydra camp, so they’re keeping a low profile. You got a job, we can do it._

_Don’t care much what it is._

 

\---

 

The bar was like a hundred others Steve had been in. Dirty, noisy, full of smoke, and smelling of booze. Nevertheless, it was a safe haven. Well, when there weren’t fights being started. Not that Steve had ever started fights…intentionally. Despite what Natasha and other crew members may say, Steve really wasn’t a fan of violence. Sometimes people just needed to be punched.

The other patrons looked similar to Steve and Thor, to be honest. Dressed in similar shades of green, brown, and gray canvas jackets and cargo pants, at least slightly dirty faces, and the fact that they were all criminals. Steve stood out a bit, though he had the same color scheme as the rest of them. He kept up appearances better than most, wearing button-down shirts (generally in brown, if not a gray/tan or the occasional dark blue) and frontier trousers held up by suspenders (damn narrow hips being problematic). It gave him a unique look, and made him feel slightly less like the scum he knew he was.

Of course, Bucky looked a thousand times better. He usually tended to avoid establishments such as this one, but he’d felt like people-watching and drinking the cheap booze he claimed was a hundred times better than anything high society had. So, while Thor and Steve played a game of pool with an acquaintance (and that was Steve using the term generously), the Companion sat at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. He was dressed quite plainly, actually, in tight black pants, a crisp white shirt, and a leather jacket (the two round obsidian studs in his ear being the only marker of his position), but against the dusty, earthy colors of the bar, he stood out like a sore thumb.

Not that he looked _bad_ , Steve thought to himself. He could never look bad, he just stood out a bit. Okay, more than a bit. Probably less than Steve thought. He just kept looking over at Bucky, and he was more paranoid each time he looked and even more paranoid if he went too long without looking. Paranoid about what, exactly, he couldn’t say.

“Hardly had to convert the ship, too.” Victor bragged, before announcing, “Six in the corner. Just put in stronger locks, thicker doors. Keep everybody where they’re supposed to be. Don’t even need more rations.” He smirked, preparing to take a shot. The balls flickered, buzzing statically. “Come on!” He looked to the bartender, who just pointed at a sign that read _Management_ **_NOT RESPONSIBLE_ ** _for Ball Failure_ , with the same written under in Russian.

Sighing, Victor took his shot, seeing as the balls had gone back to normal, groaning when he missed.

“You made profit, did you not?” Thor asked curiously, stubbing out a cigar. Having been asthmatic as a child, Steve hated the habit of smoking in general, but hanging out in the dives that he did meant that he’d gotten used to the smell. Thor wasn’t much of a smoker, either, but he would normally take a cigar offered to him - so long as Tony wasn’t around to take it from him and smoke it herself.

“Hand over fist, my friend.” Victor grinned. “Water planets need labor. Terra-forming crews got a prodigious death rate.”

“Labor?” Steve remarked doubtfully, lining up his own shot. “You mean slaves.” He hit the ball easily and stood up.

“Well, they didn’t volunteer, that’s for damn sure.”

“That why you didn’t have to lay in more rations?” Steve took another shot, meeting Victor’s easygoing but menacing look evenly.

“I didn’t hear no complaints.” See, this is why Victor was an acquaintance as opposed to a friend. Steve may be a crook, but he’s not scum. Well, _total_ scum.

Steve leaned his stick against the bar, moving over to stand next to Bucky at the bar while Thor inquired more about Victor’s profit. “There’s a chance you may want to head back to the ship.” He suggested, lightly bumping Bucky’s shoulder with his own.

“I’m alright. This is entertaining, actually.” He took a sip from his glass, chuckling.

“Yeah?” If Steve sounded surprised, it was because he was. “What’s so entertaining?”

“I like watching the game.” He explained with a shrug. “Plus the other situations. The key seems to be giving Thor a heavy stick and standing back.”

“Still,” Steve stepped in front of the Companion, his back to Victor and Thor. “You may want to clear out soon. It seems there’s a thief about.”

“Thief?”

Steve held up a wad of bills, shaking his head in false remorse. “Yeah. Took this right off him. They earned this with the sweat of their slave-trading brows. Damn shame.”

Bucky set down his glass hurriedly, concern widening his blue eyes. “Steve,” He whisper-chastised, snatching the cash and stuffing it into the secret inside pocket of his jacket (good for stashing money, small weapons, I.D. cards, pickpocketed items, and, occasionally, hair elastics). He did his best to keep the wrinkling of paper quiet.

“Oh, poor thing.” Steve rolled his eyes. “They won’t even notice until they go to order their next round of drinks.”

A heavy hand landed on Steve’s shoulder. “ _вор_ ,” Victor’s voice growled.

“Good drinker, that one.” He informed Bucky with a smile, winking before turning around and giving him a punch square in the jaw.

Thor took the hint. He ducked as Victor’s crew member swung the pool cue at his head, kicking him in the stomach hard, sending him crashing into the bar. Bucky moved off to the side, just a mere second before Victor tripped Steve, sending him crashing to the floor where the Companion had been standing a moment before. As Victor got up to land another attack, Steve, still on the ground, grabbed a chair and smacked him on the head. Across the bar, Thor hit Victor’s goon in the face with a cue, sending him into an impressive backflip.

Of course, in a bar, if a fight breaks out, everyone gets involved. People neither Steve nor Victor knew were fighting, chairs breaking, bones cracking, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing around the room. Victor tried to grab Steve from behind, but he pulled the other crook’s jacket over his face before elbowing him in the ribs. A few swings later, Steve cracked Victor’s head onto the bar, knocking him unconscious. Thor kept on swinging, just ‘cause he loved to fight, but Steve put a hand on Bucky’s arm, leading him out hurriedly.

“Lovely place. I’ll tell my friends.” The Companion deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

And, two seconds later, Thor threw a guy right over the bar. He would’ve hit Steve and Bucky had they not already been gone.

 

\---

 

“Seem to you like we cleared out of Thanos in a hurry?” Clint commented, checking the instruments on the control panel. Of course, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Seems that we do that a lot.” Natasha countered. She was perched on an empty patch of console, a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Heard that we’re gonna be on Melinoe a while, though.”

“Peachy.” Clint grinned, leaning into her touch.

“Yeah? I thought you’d get land crazy spending so long in a port.”

“Probably, but I’ve been sane a while now, and change is always good.”

“Well, ain’t that a joyful sight.” Steve commented, coming into the bridge. They had just entered Melinoe’s atmosphere, and the sunset was lighting up the sky brilliantly.

“Who doesn’t love a sunset?” Clint spared a smile for the captain. He was half lounged in his chair, one knee pulled up to his chest.

“It’s starting to get familiar. Like a second home.” Natasha agreed.

“Melinoe isn’t home. Too many people we need to avoid.” Natasha’s face dropped into her hand. Of course Steve had to ruin the moment. And of course he didn’t realize it. “Resupply, look for work, and move along. We sniff the air, not kiss the dirt.”

“Wasn’t planning on _dirt_ kissing, Cap.”

Clint chuckled. “I wouldn’t stand for it anyway, Captain, jealous man like me. Although I have been referred to as filth my fair share of times.” The console started beeping urgently. “Crap. Coming down.”

“The planet’s coming up a bit fast.” Natasha’s voice was tinged with concern as she stood up, moving behind Clint.  
“That’s because I’m going down too fast.” He flipped a few switches, taking back control. “I’d likely crash and kill us all.”

“Well, if that happens, let me know.” Steve instructed, leaving the bridge.

“Okay, Cap. Will do.” Clint was mostly distracted, trying to slow the rumbling ship. “It’s okay. We’re good. I got this.”

 

Bucky studied the faces on the screen carefully. All men this time, of course. He clicked a few of the faces, denying their requests. He thought for a moment before opening the video request of a young, fresh-faced man who he’d never had before. He was quite adorable, actually.

 _“I understand that your time on our planet is limited,”_ Bucky smiled. The kid was obviously nervous and flustered, speaking rehearsed lines. It was kind of endearing, _“And if you’ve selected my proposal to hear, then the honor you do me flatters my…my honor. And I hope-”_ Nevermind. Bucky closed the video.

He went to open another request when a video call request opened up, revealing a handsome, familiar face. “Now there’s the smile made of sunlight.” Such a flirt.

“Grant,” Bucky greeted, smiling fondly. It was only partly fake. “How wonderful to see you.”

“Did you get my message? I was extra appealing.”

“It was such a flattering invitation. I had no idea I was arriving in time for _the_ social event of the season.”

“So, you’ll accompany me? I ask, heart in my throat.” Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle. Grant Ward was confident, smart, and had a pretty good sense of humor. “And there’s also a certain offer I’m still waiting to hear about.”

Bucky’s face fell a little. There was a knock at the door. “Yes, I’m sure there is. I’m delighted to say I’ll be there.” Ward nodded understandingly, obviously disappointed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Grant, I have to run.”

“No, please. I understand. I’ll see you soon, милая.” He ended the call with a warm smile, face frozen on the screen.

“Good afternoon, Captain.” Bucky greeted, turning to look at Steve as he entered.

“Morning,” He corrected. “We’re headed down. In case Clint doesn’t kill us all, local time’s gonna be in the a.m. About ten.”

“Yes, I saw that.” Stupid slip of the tongue.

“Making plans?” Steve asked, stepping closer to get a look at the name on the screen. “Grant Ward. He’s a regular, isn’t he?” Bucky pulled a curtain over the screen, standing up.

“I’ve seen him before.” He conceded, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, I never did. Not what I pictured, really. Young. Must be rich, too, to afford your rates.”

Bucky shrugged, mildly annoyed. “I suppose. He has engaged me for several days.”

“Days? One must have stamina for something like that.”

“Oh, he does.” Bucky didn’t _want_ to make Steve jealous, except that he did.

“Well...good for you. Is he letting you out at all?”

“Actually, we’re attending a ball tomorrow night.” He lounged back on a sofa, trying not to let Steve get to him.

“Tell me, do all men there pay for their dates, or just the young rich ones with stamina?” Damn him. Damn him to hell.

“Most of the women there will not be Companions, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Didn’t realize you were a woman.”

Bucky sighed. Stupid tongue. “Unfortunately, in cases like this, I am treated as such. It’s a double-edged sword, I suppose you could say. I have to be somewhat quiet and submissive, but I get spoiled rotten and I don’t have to lead in the dances.”

“Somehow, that just doesn’t seem like you.”

He shrugged. “It’s typical of women of high society.”

“Is that what you are?”

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Oh, I have. I’m still processing this. Do you have to wear a dress?” Okay, he was just doing this to get a rise out of him.

“ _No._ Some do, but this is _the_ event of the season, and I’m not the right… _shape_ for it anymore.”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me.” His head was tilted adorably in confusion. Damn him to hell and back. Again.

Bucky tugged at one of his earlobes. He was still in his black earrings from earlier. “I used to be lankier. Skinny, really.”

“That I’d pay to see.”

“Plenty of people did. You could maybe have afforded me with a good enough job.” Bucky immediately chastised himself. Why did he have to say these things?

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“I was considered less desirable by the masses when I was lankier. Plus, I had less experience.”

“Huh. Well, I’m sure it’s the finest party I could imagine getting paid to go to.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s not really up to the standards of your outings. It’s more conversation and dance and somewhat less petty theft and getting hit with pool cues.” Bucky stood back up, ushering Steve towards the door. “Now, I think you’ve got to go deal with that it’s-ten-in-the-morning issue.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, walking out backwards, “‘Cause I think this is more of an evening look.” He hooked his thumbs into his suspenders to show them off. Bucky rolled his eyes.

 

Tony led the way through the crowded streets of Melinoe, making a beeline for the shops. She stopped in a clearing, seeing a clothing shop with girls in the windows modeling dresses. “Look at the pretties!” She cried, hurrying over to the window.

“The clothes or the girls?” Clint asked jokingly.

“The clothes, please.” Natasha smacked his shoulder good-naturedly.

“Look at the long one.” Tony’s eyes went wide, pointing at [one of the dresses](http://img4.promgirl.com/_img/PGPRODUCTS/1211480/180/red-dress-DQ-8674-a.jpg). It was a gorgeous red, floor length dress with a corset decorated with gold patterning. Down most of the skirt was a slit, revealing the model’s long legs.

“Too long for my tastes. If I’m gonna wear a dress, I want something with some slink.” Natasha decided, ruffling the mechanic’s hair.

Clint perked up. “You want a slinky dress? I can buy you a slinky dress. Captain, can I have money for a slinky dress?” Natasha laughed at her husband’s goofiness.

“If the need arises.” Steve said absently, looking around.

“Oh, I definitely need it.”

“The only place I’ve seen something so nice is some of the stuff Bucky has.” Tony said dreamily, still admiring the dress. “And pictures he’s shown me of some of his girl clients.”

Steve gritted his teeth, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “We should get moving.”

“He needs stuff like that with the life he leads.” Natasha mused, ignoring the captain.

“Well, sure. And sometimes the customers buy him things. The really rich, smitten men.”

“I’m not exactly carrying feathers here.” Steve complained.

“It’d look better on me,” Tony decided. “I’ve got the skin tone for it, and red is definitely my color. Lucky Wanda; she gets to wear all the red dresses she wants.”

“You know how much I love getting you ridiculously expensive pretty things, Tony, but I don’t know how much that would benefit the engine.” Steve tried at a joke, still struggling with the weight on his shoulders.

Tony’s face fell. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, walking away. Glaring at him darkly, Natasha took the bag from Steve’s hold. “See you on the ship, Captain.” She deadpanned before walking after Tony. They got up onto the back of the mule as Clint fired it up, driving away.

Steve groaned, realizing what he’d done. Okay, so his conversation with Bucky earlier had done him no favors. He should’ve just let Tony admire the dress. Hell, he shouldn’t have been in such a rush. But Bucky, damn him, knew exactly how to get on his last nerve.

“Is she upset?” Thor asked, confused. Steve sighed. “Your intention was not to be impolite.”

Behind him, Steve heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. He turned slowly, his eyes meeting the eyes of a familiar goon. He looked over and, sure enough, there was Rocket, slightly less disgusting than when he had seen him last. Slightly. Although the sunlight did him no favors.

“Rocket,” He greeted with a nod.

“Captain Rogers. Heard you was back in town, so I thought we might have a little sit-down.”

“I’d rather not.”

Rocket chuckled fondly. “I’m sorry, did I give you the impression that I was asking?” Of course he wasn’t.

 

At least this time they were sitting. The last time Steve and Thor had met with Rocket, they’d been standing the whole time. Now, they were sitting, sipping on some sort of mildly trustworthy liquid from teacups. “If I remember right, the last time there was a chance for a little palaver, we were unwelcome and then some.” Steve kept his eyes on Rocket.

Thor took a sip of the tea. “Not bad.”

“Wood alcohol.” Rocket said proudly, pouring himself a cup.

“And now we’re favored guests.” Steve finished. “Treated to the best in drinks that make you blind. So cut to the chase: what is it you need?” Seeing that he wasn’t going to be eating, Thor grabbed a plate of sandwiches, as well as Steve’s ‘tea’.

“There’s a local.” Rocket began. “A man by the name of Peter Quill. He’s got some property he wants to sell off-planet. It’ll fetch a high price.”

“The local powers that be won’t let him sell off-planet.” Steve guessed.

“It’s a conundrum. What my man Quill needs is a smuggler. I’m willing to cut you in on it.”

“Why me? You have access to ships, you could do it yourself.” Rocket wouldn’t come to anyone else on a high-profit job if he didn’t need to.

“He won’t deal with me direct.” He admitted. “He’s taken a dislike for some reason. Irrational, if you ask me.”

“What happened? Did he see your face?” Thor asked around a mouthful of food. Rocket’s eyes widened in warning.

“He’s a quality gent. Nose in the air like he’s never пахло бедности. Doesn’t find me respectable enough. But you…you, I figure, have a chance.”

Okay, so he was desperate. “You backed out of a deal last time. Left us hanging.”

“We’ve no reason to take your word.” Thor agreed.

“You recall why that took place?”

“I had a problem with your attitude. I felt you were - what’s the word?”

“Pretentious?” The Asgardian supplemented. Steve glared at him.

“Exactly! You think you’re better than other people.”

“Just the ones I’m better than.” Steve challenged, leaning forward. “And now I’m thinking that very quality is what you’re putting stock into today.”

“What I’m putting stock into is that stick up your приклад is about as large as the one Quill’s got.”

Steve did his best to ignore the insult. “How would we even meet? He won’t deal with you.”

“I know a place he’ll be. A safe place. Using some new tech gun scans. They won’t let me in, it’s too high class. You might manage to slip in, methinks.” Rocket grinned. “‘Course, you couldn’t buy an invite with a diamond the size of a testicle. Lucky you, I’ve got my hands on a couple.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, sharing a look with Thor. They both chuckled. Rocket looked back and forth between the two of them, confused, before realizing his mistake in phrasing. “Of invites!” He finished. “You want in or not?” Steve smiled.

 

\---

 

Admittedly, it had been a while since Bucky was at a party this nice, but he’s able to slide into it easily. Right now, though, it’s not like he’s doing much. He’s standing in line with Grant, waiting for them to be announced. They’re near the front of the line now, but Bucky heard the noise from the ballroom almost as soon as they stepped inside. People were chattering happily, and pleasant instrumental music was providing the rest of the noise and the perfect atmosphere for dancing. Bucky had allowed his mind to wander a bit, making a mental note to remember details for when Tony (and maybe Wanda) inevitably asked about the ball. Speaking of Wanda, he had to call Jane and see if she had any of Darcy’s old - but still good condition - dresses that she wasn’t particularly attached to. And maybe ask Monty about something for Pietro as -

Bucky was shaken out of his thoughts when a holographic grid lit up in front of the man in front of him, indicating a concealed weapon. They sure had gotten to the front of the line fast. Bucky, gripping Ward’s arm, took a step forward, pausing to let the herald get a look at them. “Grant Ward and James Buchanan Barnes.” He announced to the room. Bucky could almost feel the heads that turned at the mention of his name. James Barnes was a pretty plain name, but it was part of what made him stand out so much.

He flashed a smile at Grant as they walked forward into the ballroom. Yep, he could do this. The dance taking place on the dancefloor was one he was more than familiar with, and he almost immediately saw someone he knew. “Kitty, it’s been too long.” He greeted in passing, blowing the petite brunette a kiss. Bucky had told Steve that _most_ of the women wouldn’t be Companions. The few that were would be like Kitty (full-time) as opposed to Bucky, the wanderer. At one point, being seen at a major social event with a Companion would have been shameful, but now it was almost fashionable. _Almost_. More than anything, really, it was indicative of wealth or attractiveness. Bucky was a high-class whore, but at least he wasn’t a narcissist.

The next few minutes went similarly. Bucky and Ward walked around, greeting people with polite smiles and smothering any negative feelings he may have towards them. The worst thing about rich assholes is that you couldn’t punch them in the face for being assholes.

God, Bucky’s been spending too much time with smugglers.

It was all too awkward saying hello to former clients who were clearly flustered in his presence, but he was, unfortunately, more than used to it. The price of being a popular Companion who caters to both genders is high when it comes to large social gatherings, but he’d known that when he started. As Bucky stood back upright from leaning down to greet an elderly aristocrat with a grandson he may or may not hope to never see again, Ward took a step closer to Bucky, diverting his attention to him.

“Half the people in this room wish you were on their arm tonight.” Bucky’s stomach turned a little uncomfortably at the comment.

“Only half? I must be losing my undefinable allure.” He joked, glancing around the room to see if anyone else he recognized was staring.

“Oh, it’s not that undefinable.” Ward smirked, leaning forward and whispering, “They all wish they were in your bed.”

Bucky’s face fell at the comment before he took a step away, looking around the room and making an excuse about looking for the boy with the booze (shimmer wine; the strongest stuff they had, not to mention the good tasting stuff). “Oh, he blushes.” Grant chuckled into his ear. Bucky could _hear_ the cheshire grin. “Not many in your line of work do that. You’re a very singular man, James, and I find myself attracted to you more and more.” Ward took his hands and began to dance. They had drifted onto the floor without Bucky even registering it. Regardless, he gave the other man a small smile. Okay, he could manage this.

 

Tony was focusing as much as she could on her work. Not that it wasn’t important, but she had other, more vital things she could be doing. This just required the least of steady hands, and she was still seething. _Just focus, just focus, just focus_ she told herself as she heard footsteps coming down the hall, knowing who it was and not wanting to see them.

“Tony!” Steve’s voice called from the hall. “Tony.” He repeated from the doorway.

She turned off the power tool she’d been using, sighing, but making a point to not turn to look at the captain. “I’m busy, Captain.” Tony snapped.

“I’m not asking you to not be. Come on, I’ve got a job for you.” Without another word, he turned and left the way he’d come.

Again, Tony sighed. Always another job.

 

Yeah, Bucky was definitely going to survive this. Once Ward had started dancing, everything had clicked into place, and they’d fallen into the familiar, repetitive rhythm of the dance. It was soothing, and Bucky found his mind wandering, his body on autopilot.

“I’m trying to offer you something, you know.” Ward’s voice broke the reverie. “A life…if you want it.”

“Grant.” He gave that false-genuine smile again, formulating a proper response. When all else fails, sound flattered.

“You can live here on Melinoe as my personal Companion.” He insisted.

Bucky thought of Kitty. Sweet, lovable, little Kitty. She had a good life with her man, one who did his best to treat her as a lover. Then he thought of Clint and Natasha, and knew even a permanent Companionship could never compare to the real, honest thing. Besides, why would he leave _Avenger_?

“You’re a generous man.” Bucky started.

“That’s not a yes.” Ward’s face went stony. He was kind enough, and an undeniably good lay, but had been known for having some issues with rejection ever since his fiancée left him to live halfway across the system. Bucky had serviced her once when she had visited Sihnon. Pretty girl. Smart. Liked being a bit too unnecessarily rough for Bucky’s tastes.  

“It’s not a no, either.” Bucky smiled at a young, grinning aristocrat as she twirled by, giggling from both the dancing and a bit much wine.

Ward stopped their dance, handing Bucky a glass of aforementioned wine. “You belong here, James.” He insisted. “Not on a flying piece of говно. You see that, don’t you?” Bucky widened his eyes on the obscenity, though he’d heard more colorful from the crew.

“Grant, language.” He scolded, still giving that false-genuine smile, trying to soothe him.

“What? Piece of говно? But it _is_ a piece of говно.” Bucky did his best not to roll his eyes, or worse, get visibly upset. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Miss Antonia Edlyn Stark and escort.” The herald called. Bucky’s head snapped up at the familiar name, eyes going even wider.

“Tony?” He turned around to look towards the entrance, and sure enough, there was Tony. Wearing a big red and gold dress that hugged her hard-earned curves and fell beautifully to the floor. Tony was fairly tall for a woman, so the fact that the skirt reached her ankles seemed like quite a feat to Bucky. Her hair was curled, makeup was prettily done, and Bucky guessed that she was even in heels. Her face was just glowing with happiness and wonder. Sure, she liked working with engines and grease, but sometimes Tony just needed to soak up being a girl as much as she could.

Stupid traitor heart. It skipped a beat when Steve stepped out behind her, dressed to the nines. Steve’s hair was generally an odd color, walking the line between blonde and brown, but lately it had been more brown, and he’d grown out his beard to match. Bucky looked plain scary with a beard, but Steve just looked even more like an Adonis. So, of course, Steve looked fabulous in his tight midnight blue suit, beard freshly trimmed and hair slicked back. Bucky wanted to punch him in the face for being so beautiful. Hell, Bucky wanted to punch himself in the face for finding him attractive, let alone beautiful.

“Oh, _говно_ ,” He muttered.

  
\---

 

Steve didn’t know what expression to wear. Tony’s face was lit up brighter than the sun with her massive grin (which he wasn’t going to make go away this time, thank you very much), but Steve was just plain uncomfortable. The suit was tight, he was worried about finding their man, and he was even more worried about pissing off aristocrats. Or, even worse, running into Bucky. They stopped in front of the dance floor, taking in the scene.

“Does this seem kind of tight to you?” He whispered to the mechanic.

“It shows off your glorious ass.” She reassured, not even bothering to look at him. “Do you see the chandelier? It’s  _ hovering _ .” Tony marveled. And sure enough, it was. Three decorated, brightly lit gold rings, each smaller than the next, floating in sync, giving light to the room.

“What’s the point of that, I wonder.” Steve said as Tony cried “Oh, mangos!”

“I mean, I get how they did it, I just don’t get why.” He continued, ignoring Tony’s talking with her stomach.

“These girls have the most beautiful dresses.” She said dreamily, looking around the room as they walked along the edge of the dance floor. “And so do I!” Tony reminded herself, gesturing to her dress proudly.

“Yeah, well, be careful. We cheated Rocket out of good money to buy that, and you’re supposed to make me look respectable.”

Tony nodded, face serious. In any other situation, she would have mock saluted. “Yes, sir, Captain Tightpants.”

Steve ignored the comment. She was back to liking him, at least. “Okay, I’m looking for our guy Quill.”

“And Bucky.” She added quickly. “We should look for him, at least just to say hi.”

“If we see him.” He agreed. “I think he’s wearing silver.” Steve added absently, looking around. “Okay, now help me find our man. He’s supposed to be younger, tall, red hair. Wears an orange and blue sash.”

“Why does he do that?”

“Dunno. Maybe he won the Miss Melinoe pageant. Just keep your eyes peeled, alright?”

“Is that him?” Tony pointed across the room.

Steve followed her gaze and nearly rolled his eyes. “That’s the buffet table.”

“Well, how can we be sure unless we question it?” She asked, giving a wide, cute smile.

“Fine. Don’t make yourself sick.” Steve took a step to the side, letting her pass.

“Да сэр, Captain.” She grinned, walking toward the table, skirt swaying with each step.

 

“Ante up, gentlemen.” Pietro declared, shuffling the cards. He, Bruce, and Thor were in the dining area, playing cards to try and relieve themselves of some chores. “Dishes.” He put the slip of paper in the center.

“Dishes. Could do with less of them.” Bruce put in the same.

“Garbage.” Thor countered.

“Small card…plum. Plums are tall.” Pietro looked around the table. Wanda was perched on a counter, watching them play, fascinated.

“I’ll take two.” Bruce requested.

“Two. No tall card claim.” Pietro recited, handing the doctor two chips.

“I will have three.” Thor added.

“Three. Dealer forced to claim the tall.” Pietro recited, sighing heavily.

“What do you suppose the captain and Tony are doing now?” Bruce asked conversationally, putting down another card.

“Eating off of plates made of money, no doubt.” Thor grunted, before adding, “I fold.”

“Me, too.” Pietro agreed. “Tall cards like a weight around my neck. Take it, doctor.”

Bruce grinned, scooping up the slips of paper with the names of chores. “That’s a nice pile of things I don’t have to do.”

At some point during the proceedings, Wanda had moved over to a tray of canned food and had ripped off several of the labels and was now dumping boxes of crackers onto the floor. Pietro ran over and grabbed her arms, shushing and calming.

Thor carefully picked up all she’d knocked over and put them back. “Nothing was seriously harmed. A bit of mystery never hurt anyone.”

The Asgardian’s deep, rumbling voice mixed with Pietro’s hair petting and shushing calmed Wanda down substantially. She sat on her brother’s lap for the rest of the game, whispering advice into his ear. Thanks to her, Pietro absolutely destroyed the other two men.

 

Natasha sighed blissfully, bathing in the afterglow of their third round of sex. She and Clint were both covered in sweat and other bodily fluids, but neither was planning on moving. “I thought you wanted to spend more time off-ship this visit.” She teased breathlessly.

Clint propped up onto one arm, scooting closer to her and stroking her arm. “Oh, that. Well, out there it seems like it’s all fancy parties.” Nat hummed in agreement, stroking her husband’s face. “I like our party much better. The dress code’s easier and I know all the steps.”

Nat laughed, moving in even closer. “Oh, I’d say you do.” Sighing contentedly, she pressed a chaste kiss to Clint’s lips before settling back down onto the pillows, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep now.” Clint scolded. “Sleepiness is weakness of character; ask anyone.”

She laughed again. What a strange man she had married. “It is not.”

“You are  _ acting captain _ . You know what happens if you fall asleep now?”

“Thor crushes my skull and takes over.” She said easily, rolling onto her side. 

“That’s right.”

“And we can’t stop it.”

“Well, I wash my hands of it. It’s a hopeless case.” Clint scratched his brow. “I’ll read something nice at the funeral, something with lots of imagery. I’m a very visual person, you know.” Deaf jokes. Wow. Still, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You could lock the door and keep the power-hungry maniac at bay.” She suggested, enjoying the sensation of Clint’s hand running up and down her arm, tracing patterns she couldn’t see.

“I don’t know, I’m starting to like this poetry idea.” What a dork. “‘Here lies my beloved Natasha, my autumn flower’.” He slapped her ass lightly, making her laugh again. “Although, somewhat less attractive now that she’s all corpsified and gross.” She could hear the satisfied smirk on his lips.

“Oh, hell no!” She grabbed the pillow from under her and swung it at his face. Much struggling later, they just started all over again.

With the sex, that is. There was banter thrown in, but it was mostly sex.

 

Tony picked a strawberry from the carefully made pyramid of the fruit. Holding it delicately by the stem, she went to stand next to a young man. “Aren’t they something?” She commented, gesturing to the dancers on the floor. “They look like they’re walking on air.” With a neutral face, the man bowed politely and walked away from Tony.  _ Okay, then. Not the way to act. _

Instead, she wandered over to a group of girls in tight, shimmering dresses that showed off every curve without being in any way indecent. “Hello,” She greeted.

The lead girl, a petite blonde, gave her a confused smile. “I don’t - um, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Oh! I’m Tony.” She stuck out a hand.

“Bobbi.” She replied, shaking her hand. “And this is Angie, Dottie, and Rose.” She gestured to each of the girls next to her in turn as she recited their names.

“Don’t you just love this party?” Tony chuckled. “It’s all fancy, and there’s some kind of hot cheese over there.” She pointed towards the buffet.

“It’s not as good as last year.” Rose commented, somehow managing to look down her nose at Tony, who was taller by almost three inches.

Tony didn’t let it get to her. “Oh, really? What’d they have then?”

“Standards.” Tony’s face fell minutely, realizing what was going on. She was thrown back in time, back to her youth. Too girly for the boys, too boyish for the girls. Didn’t meet anyone’s standards, she just stood out. The only friends she had were machines, her dad, and Rhodey, the boy a few years older than her who lived across the street and would sometimes help out at the shop.

And Pepper. Pepper hadn’t lasted long. She’d been in love with Tony, but once she’d found out that Tony was a girl, she turned and ran, never speaking to her ever again. Never good enough. Never normal enough. She’d started pretending nothing got to her.

“Who made your dress, Tony?” Bobbi asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh, do you like it? I fell in love the moment I saw it.” She brightened up again, running her hands along the red silk on her hips.

Bobbi leaned forward, face painted with concern. “You ought to see to your girl.” She whispered, as if embarrassed.

“Что ты сказал?” She asked, confused.

“Your girl.” She repeated. “She’s not very good. She made you something that looks like you bought it in a store.”

And Tony’s ‘I don’t feel anything’ face was back. “But you can’t deny I look damn good.” She said with a smirk.

“Why, Bobbi Morse.” An older man came up from behind Tony, smiling at the blonde. “What a vision you are in your fine dress. It must’ve taken a dozen slaves a dozen days to get you into that getup.” She blushed, flattered. “‘Course, your daddy tells me it takes the space of a schoolboy’s wink to get you out of it again.” Bobbi’s jaw dropped as Tony’s eyes widened.

She turned to look at the man. He was about her height, balding slightly, and brown-haired. He had a kind face and warm eyes, but something told her that he wasn’t the kind of person you mess with. He turned to face Tony as Bobbi gathered up her skirt and hurried off, friends following her.

“Forgive my rudeness.” He apologized. “I can’t stand useless people.” 

Tony smiled at him. She liked this guy. “Tony Stark.” She extended her hand.

“Phil Coulson.” He smiled and shook her hand.

 

Steve wandered around, trying not to be obvious about the fact that he was looking for someone in particular. He smiled slightly as he looked across the dancefloor, seeing a man fitting the description Rocket had given him. A tall, red-haired man around Steve’s age, wearing an orange sash with a blue stripe down the middle. He was leaning against a column, talking to another man. Steve hurried across the floor, weaving around the dancers. He butted in just as the other man - the one Steve had no interest in - was walking away.

“Beg your pardon, but you wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Peter Quill, would you?”

“ _ Sir _ Peter Quill.” He corrected, nodding. “The sash.” Steve gave him a blank look. “It indicates lord-hood.” He explained as if it were obvious.

“And it’s doing a wonderful job.” Okay, Steve may have to crack and ask Bucky for pointers on dealing with high society. Not that he planned on doing jobs like this ever again, but just in case. And it’s not like he wanted to spend extra time with Bucky, either. Totally not. They were pains in each other’s asses. Why would he want to spend extra time with - okay, yeah, he wanted to get more one-on-one time with Bucky. Stupid traitor brain.

Quill sighed and began to walk away. Steve caught him quickly. “Sir, my name’s Steve Rogers. I captain a ship called  _ Avenger _ . I mention this because I’ve been led to understand that you have some property you’d like to transport off-world.” He trailed off as he heard a familiar laugh, turning and seeing Bucky grinning (surprisingly genuinely) as a tall, handsome man with ink-black hair danced with him. Steve ignored the strange man’s (Ward, he reminded himself. Grant Ward) chiseled jaw and muscular frame, as well as how damn attractive he was. “Some property you’d like to transfer off-world discreetly.” He emphasized the last word, doing his best to get his point across.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m an honest man.” Something about the way Quill held himself and the gleam in his eyes told Steve different. He was high society, but Steve sensed that, deep down, they were made of some of the same stuff.

“Well, it seems to me that there’s nothing dishonest about getting your goods to people who need ‘em.”

“Good point.” Quill chuckled, before his face went back to serious. “Who do you represent?”

Shit. Steve had been worried about that question. “Represent isn’t exactly the -”

“I’ve already taken a liking to you, so please don’t waste my time.”

“Fellow called Rocket.” Steve confessed, with an automatic response to the order left over from his military days.

Quill hung his head slightly, and nodded slightly. “I know him. And I think he’s a psychotic lowlife.”

“And I think calling him that is an insult to the psychotic lowlife community.” Oh, Steve’s been wanting to say that for ages. “But the deal is solid.”

Before Quill could talk, a young man slightly taller than Steve butted in. He had an all-too familiar man on his arm. “Sorry to interrupt.” He began, addressing Quill. “Lord Peter, I know you from the club, I believe.” Steve barely heard him speaking, he was so busy looking at Bucky. All in silver, just like he’d thought. A long, silver top, decorated with intricate designs in black and red. His hair wasn’t quite slicked back, and it hung naturally, and he was wearing makeup in a way that made him look younger, not to mention more feminine. His clothes were loose-fitting and Ward was in heels, making Bucky look smaller, more docile. High society might have found this Bucky attractive, but it made Steve vaguely sick to his stomach.

Bucky gave Steve a hesitant smile. “Captain, this is Grant Ward.” He spared his client a glance. “Grant, this is Captain Steve Rogers.”

Ward looked quite displeased by Steve’s presence.  _ Good.  _ Ignoring the distaste on the other man’s face, Steve gave him an overenthusiastic smile and handshake. “Nice to meet you. Funny enough, Grant’s my middle name.” He turned back to Bucky, wearing a shit-eating grin. “James, I didn’t realize you were going to this party.”

“It’s the only party.” Bucky was glaring at him, speaking through gritted teeth.

“And I can see why.” He put emphasis on each word, drawing out the sentence, relishing the annoyed crinkle of Bucky’s brow. His entire pouty face was better, but this would have to do. “How about that floating chandelier? It almost outshines our boy here.” He added, focusing back on Ward.

The aristocrat’s face darkened even more. Bucky looked down nervously, and Steve took note of Ward’s vice-like grip on the Companion’s arm. He shoved down his anger and smiled at Ward brightly. “Grant - can I call you Grant?” He didn’t wait for a reply and plowed on ahead. “James has spoken to me of you. He made a point of your generosity.” Ward nodded, less threatening now that he had been complimented. “Given that, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I ask James the favor of a dance?” Steve smiled, challenge in his eyes. 

Ward’s eyes darkened, but he nodded nonetheless. “Of course.” Steve held out his arm, and Bucky took it after only a moment’s hesitation.

“I wouldn’t have expected that of you.” Quill commented as the couple walked away, taking a sip of his wine.

“I know what’s mine.” Ward’s eyes were steely. He was not a force to be reckoned with.

 

“This dance I think I actually know.” Steve sounded amazed. It was somewhat complicated, but once you got it, it was easy as pie. The women put their hands in the center of a small circle they form, the men walk around said circle. When the women come over to the men, they touch hands and change partners until they get back to their original dance partner. Bucky wasn’t even away from Steve a minute.

“Why are you here, Steve?”

“Business, same as you. I was talking to a contact about a smuggling job, and then you came over to me.” 

“You were  _ staring  _ at me!” Steve was oddly good at dancing, and he twirled and led Bucky as well as any of these well-bred high class men could.

Steve made sure to keep his grip on Bucky’s arm and waist firm but gentle. “I saw you, that’s all.” He insisted. “You stand out.”

Bucky chuckled as he curtsied, right before Steve bowed and they went back to dancing together. “In this company, Captain, I believe you are the one who stands out.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see a professional at work.” He pulled Bucky almost unnecessarily close before whispering. “Is this the hard part, would you say, or does that come later?”

He did his best to not be fazed. “You can try to make me ashamed of my job all you want, but it won’t work. Besides, what I do is  _ legal _ . And how’s that smuggling coming along?”

They were waltzing now. “Well, what I do is illegal, but at least it’s honest.”

“What?” Okay, now he’d lost him.

“Well, all this - the lie of it. That man parading you around on his arm as if he actually won you; as if he loves you, and everyone here is going along with it.”

“These people like me and I like them. I like Grant, too, by the way.” Bucky did his best to keep his face in check, knowing how much his face could contort when he was angry.

“Well, sure. I’ll liable to sleep with him myself, but I don’t see how you can say a group of people like you if you have to paint yourself into someone else to be around them.”

“You wouldn’t understand. And he likes me too, whether you see it or not.”

“Who wouldn’t?” There was something almost…sad behind Steve’s eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met a person who doesn’t like you.”

“He’s made me an offer.” Steve’s face went solid as he spun Bucky easily. “You may think he doesn’t honor me, but he wants me to live here. With him. I’d be his personal Companion. I’d belong here. Call me pretentious, but it certainly has an appeal.”

“You’re right.” Steve’s face was an open book to Bucky, and he hated it. “I can’t stop you, this is your life. You have the right to a decent one.” God, he looked so sad. Why did he have to be so honest and emotional  _ now _ ?

“I see Tony’s here.” Bucky had to change the subject.

Steve chuckled. “She cried Cinderella tears. You should’ve seen her when I said she could have that red monstrosity.”

“I think she looks beautiful.”

“And I never said I didn’t.” 

 

“I’m not saying the 80-04 is hard to repair, it’s just not worth it.” Tony said around a mouthful of cake.

“It’s a fine machine.” An aristocrat insisted. Tony had gathered quite a crowd of rich old fogeys who wanted to talk about machines. “You just keep it tuned.”

“Нет никакого смысла. The extenders aren’t braced.” She chuckled.

“I’ve been telling him to buy an 80-10 for years.” Coulson gestured to the aristocrat.

She rolled her eyes. “Those ‘tenders snap off no matter how good the engine’s cycling.”

A young man standing next to her interrupted politely. “Miss Tony, I was wondering if I could request the honor of-”

“Wait a minute.” Coulson butted in, “Let her talk; she’s talking.”

Tony leaned in conspiratorially. “By the way, the 80-10’s the same machine. They just changed the plating and hoped no one noticed.” The group of men laughed. Yeah, this was Tony’s crowd.

 

Ward watched with a fearsome gaze as Steve and Bucky glided across the floor, flowing like water over stones and balancing each other perfectly. He could tell they had caught the attention of a few people around the edge watching the dancing, but Ward couldn’t do anything about it. Not without causing a scene.

Steve and Bucky chuckled as they finished their dance, shoulders pressed together and still having a hand clasped. The waltz had become a traditional dance, one that had involved a lot of complicated moves and quick changes. Steve had come close to stepping on his partner’s feet more than he’d ever like to admit. 

“Okay, it’s possible you’re right. Maybe this ain’t quite my kind of party.” Bucky laughed in agreement, letting go of his hand and taking a step back (for modesty’s sake, he told himself).

Ward pushed through, shoving Steve’s shoulder and grabbing Bucky’s arm roughly, pulling him away from the Captain. “Whoa, now.” Steve exclaimed, earning a glare from Ward, who had turned to face him, but shoved Bucky roughly behind him. “ No need to be hostile, Ward..”

“Excuse me, but he’s not here with you, Captain. He’s mine.” His voice was dripping with malice. Bucky looked down, ever playing the part of the submissive Companion. And it pissed. Steve. Off.

“Yours?” The question was aimed at Bucky as much as it was at Ward. “He doesn’t  _ belong _ to anybody.”

Grant Ward took a step forward, growling, “Money changed hands, which makes him mine for tonight. And no matter how you dress him up, he’s still-” Steve landed a firm blow on Ward’s cheek before he was able to finish the sentence. He knew where it would end, and he wasn’t going to let it go there.

The music died immediately, and all attention went to the dancefloor. A horrified Bucky, Ward on the ground, and Steve shaking out his hand, looking quite satisfied with himself. Off in her circle of men, Tony shifted nervously, looking around. If a fight broke out, she had to be ready. And she was just plain anxious about what sort of trouble the Captain would get into. Sure, Tony was always up for a bit of excitement, but not without a plan. Steve was good with plans, when he bothered to make one. Generally, though, he went with his gut a bit too much. Which was exactly why he had Natasha.

But Natasha wasn’t here. She was on the ship with the rest of the crew, probably having sex with her husband for the fifth consecutive time. Not that Tony could blame her. She would be doing the same if she could. Well, not if it meant giving up the dress. Tony  _ really  _ loved the dress.

Steve grinned at Bucky, quite proud of how soundly Ward had gone down. “Turns out, this is my kind of party.”

Bucky gave him a pitying, worried look (scared?). “Oh, Stevie.” He breathed.

That’s when little alarms started going off in Steve’s head. Like the idiot he was, he didn’t listen to them. Hell, he didn’t even hear them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's even more Stucky in part two. Mwahahahahahaha.  
> I love this episode so much. Probably too much. For new readers who are as much of stucky trash as I am, you're going to love the next part. I guarantee it.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> вор = thief  
> пахло бедности = smelled poverty  
> приклад = butt  
> говно = shit  
> Да сэр = yes, sir  
> Что ты сказал?=What did you say?  
> Нет никакого смысла = there’s no point


	10. Shindig: Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds out what was so bad about punching a rich douchebag in the middle of a party. Also, feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for semi-graphic depiction of violence (people get stabbed), as well as mentions of prostitution. And, as it says in the summary, feelings. So many feelings.  
> I love this episode so much, and I loved getting to rewrite it to be extra wonderful. I hope you enjoy!

“What? Don’t act like he didn’t deserve it.” Steve was still ignoring the frightened look in Bucky’s eyes.

Ward stood up, breathing heavily and face shining with triumph. Okay, that was never good. “I accept.” He rasped, still recovering from getting the wind knocked out of him.

“Accept what?” Now Steve was definitely concerned. Bucky was using all his willpower to keep from smacking him upside the head for being such a reckless idiot.

“There has been a challenge.” The herald announced to the room. Okay, definitely not good sounding.

“I hope you’re prepared, Captain.” Ward growled, his hands rolling into fists.

“Oh, you’re talking about a fight.” Steve shrugged out of his jacket. “Well, that’s fine. Let’s go.” Again, Steve didn’t _like_ fights. He just didn’t necessarily hate them, either.

“It’s not a fistfight, Steve.” Bucky interrupted, grabbing his arm. His eyes were full of warning, but Steve was still itching to hit Ward again. Reason had flown out the window.

“The duel will be met tomorrow morning at Kaytree Pond.” The herald informed him. When had that plan been made.

“Well, why wait? There’s a small mountain of pistols right outside.” If he couldn’t hit Ward, Steve would settle on shooting him.

“If you require it, any gentleman here can give you the use of the sword.” Okay, this guy’s monotony was starting to get on Steve’s nerves.

“Use of a swhat?” _Shit_. Now Steve knew why Bucky had been so worried.

He’d fucked up bad.

And now he was probably going to get stabbed. Great.

 

\---

 

“What’s going on?” Tony demanded, hurrying up to Steve’s side.

“I’m not sure. What’s going on?” Steve asked Quill.

“Well, first you’ll be put up into a nice little room so you don’t disappear in the middle of the night - only make that mistake fifteen times before you learn your lesson. Still, I wouldn’t blame you if you did vanish. Ward may be a spoiled slimeball, but he’s an expert swordsman. He’s killed a dozen men with the long blade, and I don’t think he plans on leaving it at that. Though, you’re the only one who’s really given him reason to.”

Tony looked horrified, and rightfully so. Steve just gaped at Quill. “This is the epitome of high society? Dueling with swords like it’s the dark ages?”

“You’ll need a second.” Bucky reminded.

“What’s that?”

“I’ll do it.” Quill said, before Steve even finished his question.

“He fights if you refuse.” The Companion explained.

“James.” They turned at the sound of Ward’s voice. He was holding out his arm. “Come with me, please.”

Bucky ignored him momentarily while Steve looked back to Quill. “Now, you taking on this job - being my second - does this mean we’re in business?”

“It means you’re in mortal danger.” There was a bit of laughter behind Quill’s green-blue eyes. “But you messed up Grant’s face, and, not going to lie, that had endeared you to me somewhat. You might even give him a fight…well, before he guts you.” Tony turned pale.

“James!” Ward barked. Bucky gave Steve one last sad, apologetic look before hesitantly walking over to Ward, taking his extended arm quietly.

Tony watched the exchange quietly, and smiled sadly at the captain’s face as he watched Bucky walk away. She leaned into his side, grabbing his arm gently. “Until you flipped your shit, I was having fun. Not a total failure.” It didn’t do much to improve the mood, but it broke the terrible silence that had fallen.

 

Thor pulled himself up and down, focusing on his breathing, muscles straining. He wore fingerless gloves to avoid tearing up his palms as he hung from two grips threaded through the grate of the floor up above. He had a whole little workout area for himself, complete with with weights, a bench press, and other things to toss around and lift. The captain had denied him any sort of serious target practice on more than one occasion, and he didn’t have either of his sparring partners available, so working out it was.

He had just gotten into rhythm, settling into the familiar strain and up-down motion when a knock came from the door. The airlock door. Thor dropped from his hanging position, annoyed. As a general precaution, he grabbed a rifle sitting not far away and clipped his hammer to his belt. One could never be too careful.

At the airlock door, Thor paused to see who was on the other side. He scoffed, even more irritated than before. Nevertheless, he pulled open the door, still holding firm to his gun. The Raccoon stepped through, wearing a fur hat that matched his nickname and made him look twice as hideous as he normally did.

Rocket looked around, surveying the inside of _Avenger_ and making a point to not look at Thor. “Captain’s gone and gotten himself in trouble.” He explained. “Gather the rest.”

 

“A duel?” These mishaps never ceased to amaze Bruce.

“With swords?” Clint had turned his aids up a notch, just to make sure he was hearing things right.

“The captain is a good fighter; he must know how to handle a sword.” Pietro mused, trying to comfort both himself and everyone else. He looked to Natasha for some kind of support.

She nodded. “He knows what end to hold.”

“Okay, so we figure out how to get him out of there.” Rocket was smirking as they talked amongst themselves, but made no move to contribute to the conversation.

“We have until morning, correct?” Bruce turned to Rocket. “Do you know what lodging he’s in?”

The Raccoon chuckled. “Oh, this is embarrassing. You seem to be misapprehending why I’m here.”

Natasha stepped forward, radiating assuredness and power. “You’re here to make sure we don’t do what my boys here think they have to.” AKA breaking Steve out.

Rocket tapped the side of his nose. “Dime for the smart lady. Melinoe’s my home. I’ve gotta do business with the people here. I don’t want it known that I brought in someone who caused this kind of ruckus. We’ll just settle in until this blows over…one way or another.” The satisfied smirk never left the man’s face.

It fell, however, when the distinct sound of a gun being cocked came from above. Rocket turned and saw Thor on the catwalk, holding a rifle aimed at Rocket’s head. Natasha gave him a tiny smile. “Thor, I wouldn’t.” She looked surprisingly friendly, almost fond, given the circumstances. And the fact that he was, well, Thor.

“Why not?” The acting captain nodded to a spot behind Thor and he his turned slowly, knowing what to probably expect. In front of the door was Tony, still in her expensive dress, surrounded by four grimy men, all loyal to Rocket. Two had guns pointed on the crew, one was locked onto Thor, and the last had a firm grip on Tony.

So that explained Natasha’s fond smile. Not for Thor, of course, but Tony. “Hi.” The mechanic greeted joylessly, sounding more bored and irritated than anything. She had a gun pointed at her head, and yet she managed to treat it like a minor inconvenience. Only Tony.

Well, and sometimes Nat.

 

Bucky padded down the hall, treading as lightly as he could. As he approached the door, he looked around, making absolutely certain there was no one who could see him. Confident that he hadn’t been spotted, Bucky slid the silver sphere into the hole where a doorknob should be. There was a click as it was registered, followed by a flash of warm golden light. The door slid open easily, revealing Steve swinging around a curved sword.

“Steve?” He asked quietly.

There was a yelp as a clang ran out. In his surprise, Steve had gotten the blade stuck in a column. “What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to ignore his embarrassment.

Bucky pulled out the electronic door handle and stepped into the room as the door closed behind him. He eyed the sword - still lodged in the column - warily. “Grant’s a heavy sleeper the night before a big day.” He explained. “You know, he’s got a killing in the morning, then a haircut later.” Bucky scolded himself for the tiny tremble that slipped into his voice. This was the time to be  _strong_ , dammit.

“Well, I’m flattered that you sacrificed even more of your time with him to be with scum like me.” Steve deadpanned with a sarcastic smile before pulling the sword out of its resting place with a grunt. "But I don't need your pity, and much less your concern. You should get some sleep, too, you know. Apparently not getting any is bad for you. Of course, I do it anyway. You know me."

"I certainly do," Bucky sighed, crossing his arms and watching as Steve paced across the room. “I knew the accommodations would be nice.” He commented, looking around the room. It was big and lush, covered in all sorts of expensive decorations. “Grant doesn’t skimp.”

“Huh. I guess I don’t like being kept by him as much as others do.” It was clear where his words were aimed. He put the sword down before turning back to face the Companion. “So, how come you’re still attached to him?”

“Because it’s my decision, not yours.”

“I thought he made it pretty clear he doesn't respect you.”

Bucky hesitated a second. “You did manage to push him into saying something, yes. It made a nice justification for the punch.”

“He insulted you! He talked about you like you’re an object! And if I know nothing else about you, I know that you're not an object. You're a living, breathing, intelligent, compassionate, _incredible_ human being, and the sight of you being pulled around by shitheads like Ward is so not you it makes me sick! Say what you will, but I think that punch was pretty damn justified. Actually, I think he deserved endlessly more.” They stood in silence for a moment, energy between them charged. Steve took a deep breath, his face twisting in a way that indicated something was on the tip of his tongue. “Do you fake it?” Steve blurted.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “I beg your pardon?”

“The men. Do you fake it.”

Bucky gaped at him incredulously. _The nerve._ “Do I fake an attraction to men to get paid more, is that what you’re asking?”

“Now you’re twisting my words, Buck-”

“That’s not a denial.” Bucky’s heart clenched.

“You wouldn’t believe a denial.” His eyes were a cross between angry and sad. Bucky was certain his were the same.

“No, I wouldn’t. I think I know you well enough to be able to tell when you’re implying that I’m just another _whore._ ” He spat bitterly. “I can tell when everyone else is.” Bucky turned away from the captain.

“You can’t honestly think that of me.” Steve’s voice was tinged with distress.

“Better men than you have at least been able to say it to my face.” He whirled back to face Steve, eyes blazing. Like they always did, they had gravitated together. This time, however, neither of them was making a move to widen the gap.

“I take that as an insult. Anyone who says that about you to your face - or just in general - deserves a punch to the jaw with that left arm ‘a yours. I’ve done bad things, but I wouldn’t do something like that. Especially not to you.” He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching his beard. “Look, you’re gonna hate me for this a little bit. I don’t think you’re a whore, okay? I know you are-”

“Why, you!” Bucky moved to take a swing at Steve, but the other man raised his hands quickly in both defense and surrender and took a half step back.

“Wait, wait! Let me finish!” Bucky was tempted not to. “Companion, escort, whatever; it’s what you are, it’s your job. Plain and simple. But there’s nothing _wrong_ with it, Buck. It’s part of what makes you you. And it’s how I know you, so it’s really not that bad. When people treat what you do like it’s bad, like it’s wrong, they’re saying the same about you. And when hypocrites like Ward say it, I think I have the right to punch them. You even more so, if you ask me.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. “This has all gotten too complicated, but it doesn’t have to be.” Steve gave him a confused (hopeful?) look. “There’s a back door. The desk clerk’s on alert, he can let us out.” Steve’s expression hardened as he realized what was going on.

“Oh, I’m on leaving. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m not doing this to impress you or prove some point. I’m doing this for two reasons, Barnes. One: I never back down from a fight.” And it was a constant source of migraines for everyone. “Two: you. Your honor, whatever. He disrespected you. We’ve just been over how I’m _not_ going to let that happen.”

“He’s an expert swordsman, Steve. You had trouble with the pillar. How will your death benefit me?” Steve sat down heavily on the bed. Bucky could see the gears turning in his head. He had a half-formed plan going. “I don’t fake it, by the way.” That got his attention. “I am honestly attracted to men. I don’t know what made you doubt it, but…it’s just hard to find men in this business that share my tastes.”

“So you settle for charmers like-”

“Don’t start! Please, Stevie, don’t start. Look, I can show you the basics, maybe enough to give you a fighting chance. But Grant’s had a lifetime of training. No matter how stubborn you are, I’m not going to be able to make you an expert overnight.” He walked across the room to where two rapiers were sitting, polished and sharp. He tossed Steve one.

“How do you know all this stuff, anyway? You can sharpshoot like no one I’ve ever met, and now you can handle a sword? Seriously, I’m having trouble believing they teach you this on Sihnon.”

“I had a…client, of sorts. He wanted my company more than anything strictly sexual. He taught me how to shoot, mostly, as well as a bit of sword fighting. I think he got off on watching me do it.” Bucky chuckled. “There was a shooting range near the home. I would go to relieve stress. Eventually, I just…got good. Apparently I’ve got a knack for it.”

“I’ll say.” Steve met his eyes. Bucky wasn’t able to quite identify the mix of emotions in there.

 

The crew members sat around in a circle, playing cards. Well, Tony, Bruce, Natasha, and Thor were. Clint was sitting on the floor, head buried in his arm, and Pietro was sitting off to the side, reading one of Bruce’s books that he’d borrowed. Rocket’s goons patrolled the area, casting them menacing glares every so often.

“He said not to do anything.” Tony whispered. “He’ll come get us when he wins the duel.”

“And if he does not?” Thor pointed out.

“It doesn’t hurt to have a contingency plan, Tony.” Natasha agreed.

“I’m thinking that, since we’re unarmed, we should take them by surprise.” Bruce put a card down in the middle. “All at once.” Thor nodded, liking the sound of this plan.

“Not necessarily.” Natasha countered, ever the strategist. “We can lure one or two of them away. Say, to the infirmary.” They stayed quiet for a moment as a goon passed closely by. “Take ‘em out, then be on Rocket before he knows what happened.” On the other side of the cargo bay, Rocket took a peek at the book Pietro was reading, suspicious of its contents.

“We would need a diversion.” Thor said, at the same careful whisper as everyone else. “Something unexpected.”

Pietro walked towards Bruce slowly and deliberately. He put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. Bruce turned around to see where he was looking, and the rest of the crew followed suit. Standing in the doorway that lead to the lounge and infirmary was Wanda, looking around in wonder. Bruce gave him a nod, and Pietro walked over to his sister, quietly and carefully. “Wanda, you can’t be here.” He whispered, trying to push her back through the doorway. She giggled, trying to get around him like it was a game.

“Who’s that?” Rocket’s voice demanded. Pietro’s stomach dropped. Wanda’s brow furrowed at the unfamiliar voice. “Here, look at me. What’s your story, sweetheart?” He came closer, trying to get a better look at the girl.

“She’s just - just a passenger.” Pietro tried to explain. Behind him, Wanda was listening to Rocket carefully, trying to place his accent.

“A passenger, huh? Then why ain’t she talking? She got a secret? Something of value?” Rocket licked his lips and grinned, showing off his disgusting teeth as he moved in closer to Wanda. Thor's jaw ticked microscopically as his muscles tensed and he turned to watch Wanda carefully, prepared to strike if the other man made a move he didn't like, and damn the consequences of it.

“Sure, I’ve got a secret.” Wanda came out from behind her brother, speaking in a Terran accent just like Rocket’s. “More than one. But it’s not likely I’d tell you, though, don’t ya think?” She gave him a disapproving look. “Anyone off Terra colony knows better than to talk to strangers.” She came closer and poked at the fluff of his hat. “But you talk loud enough for the both of us. I’ve known a dozen guys like you. Skipped off-world early. Minor graft jobs here and there. Spent some time in lockdown, but less than you claim.” Rocket swallowed heavily. It was obvious she was seeing right through him, laying his life out for everyone to see. “Now what? You’re a petty thief with delusions of standing. Sad little king of a sad little hill.”

“Nice to see someone from the old homestead.” Rocket said with a yellowed smile, trying to mask his panic. He wasn’t used to people insulting him in this manner.

“Not really.” Wanda said boredly. “Call me if anyone interesting shows up.” She told her brother with a roll of her eyes before leaving. Pietro just stood there, trying to absorb what had just happened.

Rocket chuckled, the shock wearing off. “I like her.”

The rest of the crew breathed a sigh of relief, glad Wanda hadn’t wigged out and caused any more trouble. Thor broke the calm by growling “That, for example, was exactly the diversion we could have used.” Well, it was back to square one.

 

Bucky nodded, holding the blade steady. “Attack.” He instructed.

Steve charged and took a swipe at the Companion. He easily blocked the attack and smacked Steve in the ass with the sword as he went past. The captain groaned in frustration and pain. “How did I avoid that?” Bucky asked calmly, sounding every inch like a teacher.

“By being fast like a freak?”

“No. I’d be out a job if I were fast.” Steve couldn’t help but smile at the innuendo. “It’s because you always attack the same way, swinging from the shoulder like you’re chopping wood.” He demonstrated the motion, swinging the blade in a wide outward arc. You have to thrust with the point sometimes,” Steve hated himself for being distracted by the thrusting motion Bucky made to prove his point, “or swing from the elbow.”

“Swinging from the shoulder feels stronger.” Steve had never been good with finesse. He’d had to rely on brute force more than he’d like to admit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“True, but it’s slower. You don’t need strength so much as speed.” Bucky came to stand next to Steve, lining up his grip on the sword. Steve hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “We’re fragile creatures. It takes less than a pound of pressure to cut skin.”

“Do I even want to know where you learned that?”

Bucky glared at him. “Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Every time I recite some seemingly random bit of trivia, you automatically assume I learned it from some creepy old man who paid to fuck me? Is that how you see me?”

“What? No! Look, I’m sorry, okay? This whole thing is starting to get to me, I guess. It’s this чертовски duel I have to fight based on the rules of _your_ society.”

“You always break the rules, no matter what society you’re in! You don’t get along with ordinary criminals, either, which is why you are _constantly_ getting into trouble. Every time I go out with you, it ends in a fistfight! Sometimes I think you start these conflicts just because you _like_ getting hit.”

“What about you? You think following the rules will get you a nice life, even if the rules make you a slave.” All of Bucky’s makeup had been wiped away, and every line on his face was visible, every minute detail. And boy, was he pissed. Bucky turned and walked away from Steve, trying to calm down. “Don’t take his offer.”

“What?” Bucky turned back to face Steve, but the captain couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Don’t do it.” He was looking at the floor. “Just in case it happens, that means he’s the man who killed me. And I don’t like men who kill me, generally as a rule. I said before that I couldn’t stop you, and that’s true.” He met his eyes, just for a second. “Anyways, just - don’t.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. He would’ve tugged on one of his earrings, but they’d been taken out for the night. “I need to get back.” He said, putting the sword back where he had gotten it from and picking up the sphere, fumbling with it slightly. “He’ll be up early.”

“Right. He’s got that big day.”

Bucky stopped in the doorway and looked at Steve. There was a strong chance he would die in the morning, and Bucky would have to watch. No time like the last time, right? “Steve.” He croaked, only half acting consciously. The captain looked up, question in his eyes.

Before he lost his nerve, Bucky walked over to Steve. He raised a hand to his cheek, stroking his beard. He leaned forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “I could never fake it.” He whispered.

And then he whirled away and hurried out of the room.

Steve wasn’t even sure if it really happened.

 

\---

 

It was a nice day, all things considered. The sun was shining, it was that perfect in-between temperature, birds were chirping, and Bucky was wearing a really tight shirt. Steve smacked himself mentally for thinking that. His head had been a mess of emotions for hours after Bucky had left, but he’d shaken it off enough to get some sleep. Steve was standing on one end of a field, standing under a tree. Ward was standing under an identical tree several meters away. He’d peeled off an expensive-looking coat and handed it to a servant. His face, despite the bruise on his cheek, was smug and confident.

Steve was standing with Quill, who was still willing to take his place and give him pointers if Steve really felt like going through with this. He was giving him pointers. It was mixed in with little to no encouragement, but that was hardly new to Steve.

Ward walked over to his starting spot confidently, smirking as usual. He held up his sword. Having little other choice, Steve moved to stand across from him, holding out the sword as his opponent was. Quill stood next to Bucky, his face carefully neutral. Steve watched Ward carefully, preparing for his strike.

In a flash, Ward jabbed at Steve. He stepped back hurriedly, but managed to block the sword. Ward slashed at Steve three times, all of which he was able to block, though he continued to be pushed back. The aristocrat paused briefly after the third attack, grinning to himself. This would be an easy fight, but not a boring one. Another two clangs rang out, then Steve swiped at the front of Ward’s shirt. He smoothed it down, checking for wounds. None, just a small tear. But still, the captain had gotten close enough to land a blow.

Steve grinned, newly encouraged. “Best be careful, Grant. I hear these things are sharp.” He mocked. Ward just kept grinning.

“He thinks he’s doing well, doesn’t he?” Quill whispered to Bucky.

“He’s being toyed with.”

They were taking turns now, one attacking and the other blocking. Steve swung his sword particularly hard, and Ward barely managed to stop it. Well, that’s how it looked, anyway. With renewed vigor, Steve jabbed at his opponent. Ward swatted the sword away and slashed at Steve’s right shoulder. He grunted in pain, reaching with his left hand to cover the wound. Steve attacked again, ignoring all that Bucky had said to do and swinging hard and in a wide arc. He was obviously being fueled by his anger. Still, Ward played along, confident and calm. The two men broke apart, and Ward put the sword behind his back, expression mocking.

“What’s he doing?” Quill muttered, half to himself and half to Bucky.

“Don’t fall for that!” Bucky cried, just as Steve charged at Ward. The aristocrat turned easily as the captain ran by, jabbing him hard in the side. There was the squelching sound of skin being cut, and Steve cried out in pain again. Luckily, the wound was on his right side, so Steve could at least keep fighting with his dominant hand while his left covered the wound..

“Well, this won’t take long.” Quill sighed.

Ward gave Steve time to catch his breath, smug as can be. Once he decided the moment was up, he began slashing and jabbing, the captain barely able to keep up. He tried to twist the sword out of the other man’s hand, but Steve’s grip held firm, though the motion did worsen the pain in his side.

At this point, Grant Ward was wearing a cheshire smile. He knew his victory was close. Steve, ever determined, kept trying to attack, but his blows were deflected easily. Not to mention that he was starting to slow down, a mix of exhaustion and pain. Quill tried to suggest that Bucky turn away, knowing the end was near, but he refused, eyes fixed on his captain. Ward blocked another jab, but instead of going to attack in return, he shoved the blade - and Steve with it- to the ground, stepping down hard just above the hilt and effectively breaking the weapon. Victorious, Ward put the tip of his blade over Steve’s heart, ready to push it in. The captain’s eyes were nothing more than embers now, the remnants of a flame.

“Grant, wait!” Bucky cried, desperate. “I’ll stay here, exclusive to you. Just let him live.” Ward’s grip wavered. He turned to look at Bucky, and that was all Steve needed. He knocked the blade away, stood up, and punched Ward square in the jaw, sending him stumbling. Hooking his foot under the broken blade, he tossed it into his waiting hand and threw it at Ward. It landed in his shoulder with an audible squelch, and Ward cried out from the sudden intrusion.

He pulled out the blade, just in time to look up and see Steve smack him on the head with the hilt of a broken sword. That knocked him down flat onto his back. Steve grabbed Ward’s sword and held it right over his sternum. “He’s down.” An official said. Yeah, no shit. The aristocrat was lying on the ground, panting and bloody, eyes full of fear. Quill hurried over to stand next to Steve.

“You have to finish it, man.” Steve held the sword where it was, his face a mix of neutrality and anger. Quill went over to his other side, trying to get his point across. “You _have_ to finish it.” He insisted. “It marks a coward, lying beaten but still breathing. It’s humiliation.”

“Sure.” Steve kept his gaze locked on Ward. Bucky had come to stand at his right, but for once, it wasn’t the most important thing in his mind. “It would be humiliating having to lie there while the better man refuses to spill your blood. Mercy is a mark of a great man.” The blade begins to retreat, and Ward relaxes, but then groans as he’s jabbed in the stomach. “Guess I’m just a good man.” Steve stabbed him in the side, relishing the sound of pain. He shrugged. “Well, I’m alright.” Steve tossed the sword onto the grass and turned around. Bucky promptly wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle, helping him stand as the pain began to sink in and the adrenaline began to fade.

An attendant ran to Ward’s side and began dabbing at a cut on his face. “James? James!” He barked, trying to get the Companion’s attention as his back retreated, pressed up against the captain’s side.

“You’ve lost him. Be gracious.” Quill warned.

Ward ignored him. “You set this up, whore.” That made them turn around. “After I bought and paid for you.” He was snarling, though he wasn’t very intimidating, as he was still lying on the ground. “I should’ve uglied you up so no one else would want you.”

“See how I’m not punching him? I think I’ve grown.” Bucky squeezed Steve’s arm thankfully, acknowledging the joke.

“Well, get ready to starve.” Ward spat as his attendant helped him to his feet. “I’ll see to it that you never work again.”

Bucky let go of Steve, taking a step forward. He was standing tall, his eyes iron. “Actually, that’s not how it works. You’ve earned yourself a black mark in the client registry. No Companion is going to contract with you. Ever. Again.” Steve smirked, smug and proud and (if he was being completely honest with himself) just a tiny bit turned on.

“You’ll have to rely on your winning personality to get laid.” Quill remarked. “God help you.”

Quill turned and went to join Steve and Bucky, who were back to walking away. Steve was wincing as Bucky held him upright, still holding his left hand firmly over his worst wound. He didn’t actually need Bucky holding him up, but the Companion had almost had to watch him die, so Bucky was holding onto Steve as long as he could. And, honestly, it made Steve feel better.

“You know, you didn’t have to wound him.” Quill told the captain.

“Yeah, I know. It was just funny.” He replied, wincing.

“Took the words right out of my mouth. But, if you’re willing to fight that hard to protect my property, I’ll have it in your hold before midnight.”

Steve stopped in his tracks, realizing what was going on. In all the duel fuss, he’d completely forgotten about the job. And now Quill was saying that he got it. Grinning and chuckling, he shook the man’s hand. As the star lord turned and walked away, Steve turned back to Bucky. “Mighty fine shindig.” He declared. Bucky just gave him a pitiful look and kissed his cheek.

 

\---

 

Thor poured Tony a glass of water, leaning in closely to talk to the group. “Young Maximoff is filling the doctor in on the plan.” He whispered. “We’re ready to move on your signal.” He glanced to Natasha. “Banner is the diversion.”

“Did you ever see such a lazy crew?” A familiar voice came from the entrance. The six crewmembers turned at once to see their captain coming in, Bucky holding him up (for real this time. Blood loss.). He was still dressed in his too-tight pants and nice shirt and suspenders, but the vest and jacket were gone, and the shirt was unsalvageable. But hey, he was alive.

“Captain!” Tony exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

“You’re hurt.” Bruce hurried over to his side, seeing the wounds.

Rocket cut him off, standing in front of the captain and looking him in the eye. “You got us a deal, Rogers?”

“Yeah, I got the deal. Now get off my проклятый ship.”

“With pleasure. This made for a lovely night.” Rocket fixed his furry hat on his head, whistled to his men, waved them over, and strutted out. Like he was untouchable, as always. _Sad little king of a sad little hill._ The words still echoed in his ears.

Bucky helped Steve over onto a chair, setting him down gently. He hissed in pain nonetheless. “Are you badly hurt?” Pietro asked as Bruce inspecting the stab wound on his shoulder. Steve just nodded, too tired and in pain to do much else but grunt.

“We were prepared to spring into action, Captain. A complicated escape and rescue plan.” Thor assured him.

“Oh, yeah. I was gonna watch; it was very exciting.” Clint added. The whole crew (sans Wanda) was surrounding him now, concerned for his health and just plain glad to have him back. Steve chuckled at the pilot’s comment.

God, did he love these guys. Assholes and idiots, every last one of ‘em. But they were family, no doubt about that.

 

Tony hummed to herself as she walked down the hall, the slightest spring in her step. It wasn’t a particularly melodic tune, just one that had been invented in that moment. With a single, well-practiced motion, she pushed back the door to her room with her foot and climbed down the ladder. Once inside, she settled down onto one end of her bed, leaning against a pillow, and turned on a small music player. Smooth instrumental dance music, the kind they’d been playing at the ball, came filtering through, filling the tiny quarters with a sense of calm. As she let the music wash over her, Tony gazed lovingly at her big red and gold dress, hanging on the opposite side of the room.

Yeah, it had all turned out well.

 

Steve and Bucky were sitting on the landing above the cargo bay, legs hanging over the side and surveying their cargo from Quill. Bucky took the mug of red liquid handed to him by the captain and took a sip. He scrunched up his face. “Thank you for the wine. It’s…very fresh.”

“To Tony,” Steve declared, raising his own glass, “And her inter-engine fermentation system.” Bucky chuckled as their glasses clinked together, but the smile fell off his face when he saw Steve’s grimace.

“Are you in pain?” He asked, putting a worrying hand on the captain’s arm.

“Absolutely. I got stabbed, you know.” He lifted the side of his shirt, showing off the bloody bandage. “Right here.”

“I saw.” Bucky put his hand down, and the shirt with it.

“I don’t care much for fancy parties.” Steve confessed. “Too rough.”

Bucky met his smile easily. “It wasn’t _entirely_ a disaster.”

“I got stabbed right here!” He repeated, gesturing to the spot on his side. Bucky rolled his eyes. What a baby.

“You also lined up exciting new crime. And it’s something unconventional, too.”

“It’s good to have cargo.” He agreed. “It makes us a target for every other scavenger out there, of course, but sometimes that’s fun, too.” Bucky chuckled. Steve looked down into his drink for a moment before turning back to Bucky, taking a deep breath and asking, “Are we ever going to talk about-?”

“No.” He cut off firmly. There was a moment of silence where they both looked down, before the Companion exhaled audibly and apologized. “I thought you were going to die. I thought I was going to have to _watch_. I didn’t know how else to tell you that I didn’t want to. Watch you die, that is. Or just have you die in general.”

“I figured. I’ll forget about it, if that’s what you want.” He offered.

“Is that what you want?”

“Not particularly. But it’s not my job that could get in trouble.”

Bucky shrugged. “Not necessarily. What I do on my downtime is my concern alone. However, I’m sure the livestock would be horrified to know that someone of standing like me dared kiss a piece of scum like yourself. You might have a rebellion on your hands.”

That got Steve laughing, then yelping at the flash of pain in his side. He smiled down at the cargo bay, filled with several dozen cows. Why Quill needed them transported off-world discreetly wasn’t Steve’s business, but it was still pretty weird. Cows. _Cows._ That just didn’t happen.

“I am grateful, you know.” Bucky bumped his shoulder with the metal arm. “For the high handed, ill-conceived attempt to defend my honor, though I didn’t want you to.”

Steve nodded, choosing his next words carefully. “As gracious as that is, I probably should have stayed out of your world.”

Bucky snorted. “My world. If it is that. I wasn’t gonna stay with him, you know.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Oh, someone needs to keep Tony out of trouble. No one else can really cook, I like traveling, I hate the architecture on Melinoe. And - most importantly, if you ask me- all my things are here.” He counted off on his fingers. “Besides, why would I want to leave something I’ve grown to love?”

“Can’t think of a reason.” Steve admitted, taking a swig from his mug. Bucky scooted a little closer, enough that their shoulders were pressed tightly together. Despite leaning on the metal arm, all Steve could feel was warmth.

It was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized how short this chapter is compared to the last one...whoops. I don't have much time to write, but I hope everyone enjoyed, and I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update! As always, I do my best to respond to all comments, so feel free to fangirl and ask questions!
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> чертовски = fucking  
> проклятый = goddamn
> 
> Next Episode: Safe!


	11. Safe: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew gets to their destination without a hitch. There are complications from there, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gun violence, swearing, pseudo reference to torture, daddy issues, and cows.
> 
> And thanks to the lovely, lovely ArmyGirl0604 for being my beta.

_ Many years ago… _

 

The security shield around the house hummed and glowed green, showing off the electric fence keeping the world outside. It was a fairly nice-looking house, neat and grand, seemingly inviting. The inside was much the same, decorated in rich, dark earthy colors and wood panelings. The decorations around the house were either expensive paintings or souvenirs picked up on trips off-world. There were overflowing bookshelves everywhere, and a dozen portable screens and small mounds of paper littered random tabletops. These were the unfortunate side effects of having two schoolchildren, a professor, and a politician under one roof.

Pietro sat in the sitting room by the fire, doing his homework. It wasn’t hard, just repetitive. And, unfortunately, he had to do it. He focused on the violin music filtering through the speakers just so he wouldn’t get annoyed with the whole thing. Pietro didn’t even like violins that much, but it provided a good distraction, and it was Charles’ music anyways, so if he tried to change it, he’d have privileges revoked for a week. Five days, if he was lucky.

“We’re in trouble.” Wanda’s voice came from behind him. Another one of her games. He ignored it. “We got cut off!” 

Okay, he had to humor her. “Cut off from what?” Pietro asked, writing out the answer to a math problem on his screen.

“Our platoon, Pietro.” He could feel her rolling his eyes as she hopped over the edge of the couch to sit next to him. “We were outflanked by the independent squad, and we’re never making it back to our platoon.” This had been her thing lately, thinking of battle scenarios. They normally ended in pretty absurd places, but it stimulated her more than school ever could and Father approved of it. 

“We need to resort to cannibalism.” See? Absurd places. Pietro kept his face neutral, as much as he wanted to burst out laughing.

“That was fast, сестричка.” Pietro deadpanned. “Don’t we have rations?”

Wanda shook her head gravely. “All gone. We have to eat the men.”

“Are there no women?” 

“They were smart enough to not get separated.” She explained, waving off his question. Wanda pointed at a problem he’d just done. “That’s wrong.”

“Wanda, it’s from the book.”

“Then the book is wrong. The entire system is fallacious.”

There was no arguing with her, and he was sure she was right. Pietro set his screen aside and turned to his sister, eager to hear her story. “So, how did the independents cut us off?”

“They were using dinosaurs.” Wanda declared, not missing a beat.

“Вы гадят мне?” This was a new strange, even for Wanda.

“Language, young man.” Both the twins turned as their father walked into the room, face firm but eyes soft.

“Sorry, papa.” Pietro apologized. “The independents attacked us with dinosaurs.”

“Pietro lost his head in the heat of battle.” Sometimes it felt like Pietro liked Wanda more than she liked him.

Erik chuckled, sitting down in an armchair across from the couch. “в таком случае, because there were dinosaurs involved, I think I’ll let it slide.”

“Did you get my wave?” Pietro asked eagerly, dinosaurs forgotten. He’d spent hours perfecting his essay before sending it, and he’d been waiting all day to hear what his father thought of it.

Erik had to resist rolling his eyes. “I got it, but your text shorted. I got the whole thing during a council meeting. Thank you for that.” Erik Lehnsherr knew both his children were veritable geniuses full of ambition, and he didn’t intend to hinder that, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sometimes get on his nerves. Though, admittedly, the essay Pietro had sent was much better written and formulated than some he’d read from English professors and government officials. Combined.

“If I had a reliable source box, it wouldn’t short out.” Pietro plowed on. These kids, always wanting new technology. “I lost half my essay.”

“Yes, but you’d have access to absolutely any information that filtered through the cortex. Therefore, I forbid it.” Contrary to popular belief, the twins were his top priority, and part of putting them first meant keeping his business - the dangerous business - away from them as effectively as he could.

“Papa!” The twins whined in unison. God, that would never not be creepy.

“I will not have it in my house.” He insisted, jabbing a finger in their direction to emphasize his point. As the twins’ faces fell, Erik leaned back, sighing heavily and rubbing a hand across his jaw (he needed a shave). “But, seeing as Charles already ordered you one without consulting me, I suppose I should give up the fantasy that I am a figure of authority outside of work.” Erik looked upwards, as if asking some deity for help, but it was mostly for dramatic effect.

Wanda and Pietro’s faces both lit up with excitement. They weren’t just after the tech, Erik knew that. They wanted knowledge. Not information;  _ knowledge.  _ They didn’t want to know, they wanted to learn. In having two genius children and a groundbreaking geneticist for a boyfriend, one learns the difference between knowledge and information quite quickly. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“You will repay me by becoming a brilliant doctor.” Erik interrupted. He wasn’t going to say no, but he couldn’t say yes. “That’s the deal, Piet. Dedicated source box, brilliant doctor.” He glanced at Wanda. “You make him share, умная девочка. Can’t let it all go to his head, can we?” Erik and Wanda wore matching warm smiles as their identical blue eyes met. 

“Papa, this is amazing!” Pietro went on, about to burst at the seams with joy. “It’s going to completely-”

“I know, I know.” He interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Do you think I’d let you work with something second-rate?”  _ If it meant you not finding out the truth about me, yes.  _ “You’re worth it. Both of you.” Pietro was practically vibrating with excitement where he clung to his sister’s arm. “Now, could you two geniuses give your tired old father a few minutes’ quiet?”

Pietro moved to stand up, nodding, but Wanda stopped him. “You’re not  _ that  _ old, Papa.” She pointed out.

Erik sighed. “What do you want, Wanda?”

“I’ll give you your silence.” She leaned forward, smiling wickedly. God, is that what he looks like? “On one condition.”

Another sigh. There was so much sighing going around. “I figured. Go on, spit it out.”

“Tell me, when are you marrying Charles?” If Erik had had some beverage in his mouth, it would’ve ended up spat all over the room. Why had he been cursed with such nosy, intelligent children?

He crossed his arms, giving Wanda the Stern Dad look he’d mastered over the years. “Now where did you get that notion, Wanda?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, still gripping her brother’s sleeve tightly. “It made the most sense. He’s not going anywhere, but you’d both like something to keep him around.”

Cursed was definitely an apt word. Was she psychic? Did he have a psychic child?  _ Not her too, please.  _ Charles could already read his mind as it was, and that was more than enough. But Wanda? There was only so much Erik could tolerate.

“I’ll get back to you on that one, Wanda.”

He expected more of a fight, but she just shrugged and skipped off.

Huh.

 

\---

 

_ Present Day _

 

“ _ NO!”  _ Wanda shrieked, backing away from Pietro. “No, I don’t want to go back there!”

“It’s okay,” Pietro reassured, holding his hands up.

“It’s not okay!” She spat back, shaking and crying. “You can’t keep doing this! It’s like shoving needles in my eyes and asking what I see!”

Okay, so today wasn’t going to go as planned. “It’s alright, Wanda. We won’t go in.” He slid the infirmary doors closed and turned back to his twin. “No test today. See?”

“No more rutting tests.” She growled. Clearly, Wanda was picking up on the local dialect. “Stupid Сукин сын dresses me up like a living doll.” She pulled angrily at the skirt of her red dress. They hadn’t been able to really look for much as far as clothes go, and Wanda couldn’t go on borrowing Natasha’s clothing. Bucky had been kind enough to ring up a friend on Melinoe who was a fashion designer or something; it didn’t matter. Wanda had clothes. Thought that didn’t change the fact that she was also having a bad day.

“No shots, no tests.” Pietro agreed, reaching for his medical bag. “I’m just going to give you a-” Before Pietro could finish his sentence, Wanda picked up his bag and threw it at a wall. Where it came just inches from hitting the Captain. From his spot on the stairs, Steve was wearing an expression that was half confusion and half irritation.

“Not him,” Wanda groaned. Off in the cargo bay, a few of the cows mooed, as if agreeing with her. “Ты неприятный влагалище и я не могу выдержать вид вас.” Wanda declared, and Pietro’s mouth fell open. Yeah, they’re definitely getting kicked off the ship. Pietro reached for her, but she just shrugged him off and began sobbing.

“So, she’s added cursing and making projectiles of important things to her repertoire.” Steve summed up, coming down the stairs to stand opposite Pietro. “Definitely the mark of a prodigy.”

“It’s just a bad day.” Pietro insisted, going to pick up his supplies strewn across the floor.

“No, this isn’t a bad day. A bad day is when someone  _ yelling _ ,” He aimed a pointed glare at Wanda, who stuck out her tongue in return, “spooks the cattle. Have you ever seen cattle stampede when there’s nowhere to run? It’s kind of like a living meat grinder. We’ll lose half our herd.”

“She hasn’t gone anywhere near the cattle.” Pietro was slightly confused. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately (it was all Wanda’s fault, but she wasn’t to blame).

“You don’t think I know that? But in case you haven’t noticed, she’s got a voice that carries. We’re two miles above land, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole planet can hear her from up here. Now, once we land, she can scream to her little heart’s content and until our ears fall off, although I would appreciate it if she didn’t.” He aimed the last part of his sentence back at her.

Wanda was staring off into space now, a pensive look on her face. “The human body can be drained of blood in 8.6 seconds if given adequate vacuuming systems.” She stated. Pietro felt like banging his head against a wall.

“You see, morbid and terrifying I got no problem with - though, admittedly, Nat is better adjusted to it. But that’s not the point.” Steve shook his head, slightly angry for letting himself go off on a tangent. “She can do as she pleases, so long as she does it  _ quietly _ .”

Now Pietro was pissed. “This is paranoid schizophrenia, Captain. Handcrafted by government scientists who thought my sister’s brain was a чертовски playground/pincushion hybrid. I have no clue what could set her off. If you have some expertise, please-”

“I’m not the brain guy.” Steve reminded him, putting a strong hand on his shoulder. “And I’m not a baby-sitter, either. Do what you have to, but keep her quiet for now, alright? We’ve got work to do.” With that, Steve shouldered past Pietro and marched up the stairs.

Well, they hadn’t been kicked off yet.

 

_ “You see that?” The first man pointed at the descending Firefly class ship. “Fancy vessels like that don’t land here unless they got something to sell. If it happens to be something we need, we take it.” His two partners grinned toothily, showing off yellowing, rotted teeth. The hunt was on. _

 

\---

 

Pietro swore colorfully as he stepped in cow dung. From his spot on the top of the ramp, Thor, ever helpful, laughed. “About time your shoes saw some adventure.” He smacked the last of the cows filing out, making them go faster.

“You know, they go just as fast if you lead them.” Steve pointed out.

“I’m aware, Captain.” Thor practically rolled his eyes. “But they respond more efficiently to a good, strong, authoritative hand.”

Steve squinted at him, only partially due to the sun in his face. “You just like smacking them.”

“That too.” He conceded.

Over down in the makeshift corral, Bruce was tying the last bits of metal fencing in his section together. “I hope this pen keeps them in. I’m good with patients, but not cows.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows and smiled, her version of a laugh. “Next time we do live things, we’ll go for some smaller cargo.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, turning up his hearing aides slightly. “We should start dealing in those black market beagles. They’re all the rage now.” Natasha leaned her head against his shoulder.

Wanda, considerably calmer than before, is sitting on the ground, talking to one of the cows, who has also settled down in the dirt. “Little soul, big world.” She whispered to it. “Eat, sleep, and eat and sleep, repeat.” She looked at the other cows and smiled. “Many souls.”

Steve’s reaction to the sight of Wanda now was something like his original impression. “Huh,” He mused. “Three weeks on the ship, and she doesn’t go near the cows. Now all of a sudden we’re on Kazan, and she decides it’s time to make friends.”

Wanda stands up and gives him a look that has the same effect as if she’d rolled her eyes at him, but just without the eye-rolling part. “They weren’t cows inside. They were waiting to be, but they forgot. Now they see sky and remember what they are.” Holding on to the metal bars of the corral, Wanda leaned back, turning her face up to the sun.

“Is it bad that what she said made perfect sense to me?” The captain asked Thor, who was perched on part of the fence, watching the cows. He shrugged, smiling fondly at her as only    
Thor could. Steve walked over to Wanda, beckoning her to come closer. “Come on, Wanda. Let’s get you clear of the work.”

“What’s going on?” Pietro asked, nearly giving Steve a heart attack. The little nerd could really move sometimes. “What’s happening?”

Oh, Pietro. Always assuming the worst of the situation. “I’ve got business to do. I can’t be herding cows  _ and  _ your sister.”

“She didn’t mean any harm.”

“I didn’t say that she did, nor did I think it. But when a person engages in these sorts of deals deals, he prefers that things go smoothly. She makes things go not so smooth.”

Pietro looked around, nodding in understanding. “Right, right. I’m sorry if she tipped off anyone about your cunningly concealed herd of cows.”

Steve glared at him for a moment. Okay, he had kind of deserved that one. “I think you’ve got a bit too much time on your hands, Pietro. Why don’t you take your sister on a walk?”

“A walk?” Pietro looked at the captain like he’d been told to eat a ceramic plate.

“Yes, a walk. You know, someplace away.”

“I would think it’d be better if we stayed close. Hydra has us marked as fugitives, after all.”

Steve had considered that. “The closest Hydra cruiser is  _ Insight _ , hours away from here, and I promise you that they’re not coming to a backwater planet like Kazan.”

“Still, I’m not sure it’s a wise suggestion.”

“What makes you think it’s a suggestion?”  
_This_ is why Pietro was on his guard all the time. They just didn’t really like him. Well, okay, just the captain. And Natasha, sometimes. Pietro was having trouble getting a read on her. Still, Pietro would’ve preferred having Tony hate him to having the leading authorities giving him the creeps. 

The captain patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t leave without you.” Steve walked away, smirking to himself.

 

“Does it seem to you like every supply store on every border planet has the same five ragdolls and the same wood carvings of…” Bucky studied the figure in front of him. “What is this, a duck?”

“It’s a swan.” Tony corrected, gently stroking the top of its head. “I like it.”

“You do?” The beak and eyes were all wrong for it to be a swan. Not to mention that the neck was too short.

“Yeah. It looks like it was made with…you know,” Tony waved her hands around, looking for the right word, “longing. One of those sentimental things. By someone who really wanted to see a swan.” 

Bucky chuckled. “Maybe because they’d only heard of it in rough description.”

As the Companion moved on to inspect some fabrics, Tony picked up a colorfully painted plate. “Do you think this would make a nice gift?” She asked hesitantly.

Bucky turned around and arched an eyebrow. “A gift? For whom?”

Tony flushed a bit. “I just kinda like it. It’s vibrant, you know? Add some personality to meals, you know?”

Bucky expression softened when he saw the look in Tony’s eyes. “ _ Oh _ . For Bruce.”

“I didn’t say that.” Tony stammered, putting the plate down.

“You don’t to a very good job of hiding your interest.” He teased.

“He’s just so милая.” They both laughed. “You just want to take a bite out of him all over.”

“Careful,” Bucky said in a raised whisper, gesturing behind her. Tony turned and saw the twins entering the shop. Those two would blab, she knew that for sure.

“Morning, you two!” She greeted, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. Pietro nearly jumped out of his skin, poor thing.

“Don’t usually see you two out and about planetside.” Bucky commented, coming to stand next to Tony.

“We’re trying something different today.” He shrugged. Wanda was inspecting different tools. Nothing overly dangerous, just shovels and postholers. Nonetheless, Pietro was keeping a careful watch on her. After a moment, he decided a postholer was not a good thing to leave Wanda with, and dragged her over to where Tony and Bucky were. He picked up the plate Tony had set down a minute before and inspected it. Tony brightened slightly; Pietro and Bruce were similar enough, maybe it could help her decide if she should- 

“It’s an interesting art style. Oriental, if I’m not mistaken. These dishes are beautifully designed, but they aren’t suited for space travel.” Wanda had snatched the plate from her brother’s hand and was inspecting the rest of the pile. “The clay is too dry, and would break far too easily. In short: good on planets, какашка in space.” 

Tony laughed. Maybe she’d have to go with the swan after all. “Well, getting out gives you the opportunity to have some fun.”

Pietro gave her a look. “It’s hard to have fun when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder.”

“Well, that’s why it’s not just you two. There’s a whole crew here to help watch out for you guys.”

“Still, I don’t think the captain would lose any sleep if we mysteriously vanished.” Pietro’s face was dark and angry, his voice full of resentment.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as he went rigid. “You don’t have the right to say that. You don’t know him.”

“Sorry?” It was unfair how Pietro could go from angry and bitter to confused and innocent in two seconds flat. Not to mention infuriating.

“You don’t know Steve. You’ve got no right to make judgements on his opinion on innocent people’s lives.”

It finally dawned on Pietro what he’d said. “Oh, I-I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did, Pietro. Normally, I’d make an exception because you’re young and unfamiliar with the situation, but this was too far. Steve took you in and he’s kept you fed, dressed, and safe. I guarantee you he knows a half dozen planets where you’d be genuinely safe and able to live out your days, but he welcomed you. He might not show it, but he does care. It would do you some good to be grateful.” Bucky had a dangerous look in his eye, one that made Pietro recoil slightly and clam up. He could just stand there gaping as Bucky stormed out of the shop, Tony hurrying after him.

Pietro hung his head, angry at himself for acting like an ass. And angry at his father for not being enough of an ass around him for Pietro to know what it looked like on himself.

Actually, Pietro blamed a lot on his father. It’s not like he had anyone else to blame things on; his mother bailed when he and Wanda were little - they managed fine without her, Charles was much too nice and good to be at fault for anything, and it wasn’t like you could blame Wanda’s intelligence or current situation could be blamed on her…

Hold on, where was Wanda?

Pietro looked around the shop furiously. Sure enough, no sign of his sister. “Wanda? Wanda?” He called, running around the shop. No sign. He hurried to the front door. She couldn’t have gotten far.

 

“This is the last time. The last time with cows.” Steve decided, surveying the manure on the inside of the cargo bay with dismay. “I heard there was a suggestion involving beagles. They have small droppings, don’t they?” He called.

“They definitely do.” Natasha agreed, coming up to hill to talk to take his place “Also, your disreputable men are here.”

“Better go take their money,” He said with a grin, heading down the hill on the path Natasha had come up on.

Down in the corral, Thor was still having fun whipping the cows around, showing them off to the buyers. How he could stand all the mooing was beyond Steve. “Morning, gentlemen,” He waved to the men standing along the railing of the corral, hiding from the sun in the shade provided by the trees. “You must be the Rasputin brothers. I sure hope you’re in the mood for beefsteak.”

“Attractive animals, are they not?” Thor asked, gesturing to the cows running past him.

“They’re not well fed.” The closer one said. “Scrawny.”

“Ерунда. Milk and hay thrice a day. Fed by a loving, hardworking group of people.” 

“They’re branded.” The shorter brother commented, scowling.

“You boys are hitting all the selling points. A fresh brand’s a dead giveaway, so claim ‘em as your own.” Steve was used to this speech.

The taller brother thought for a moment. “Twenty a head.”

Steve chuckled humorlessly. “That’s an amusing, figure, especially considering the 30 you already agreed on with Rocket.”

“That was before we saw them. They’ve atrophied from standing in the ship near a month.”

“My understanding is that the less muscle, the more tender the meat. Thirty.” The brothers shared a look, clearly deliberating.

“Problem?” Bruce asked quietly, coming up behind him.

Steve turned slightly to face him. “No. We’ll agree on twenty-five in just a minute.”

The taller brother - presumably the elder - turned to the captain as if to speak when a twig snapped off in the trees. He tensed immediately, hand flying to the gun at his hip. “They seem a bit jumpy to you?” Bruce asked in the same half whisper as before.

 

Pietro made sure to stay still and quiet as the local police passed him. He was a fugitive, and backwater planet or not, it was best to be inconspicuous. As soon as they were inside, Pietro sprinted across the dirt road, nearly running over two people as he did. It didn’t matter. He’d seen Wanda go this way, seen the skirt of her red dress disappear around a corner. That was all that mattered.

 

“I think we walk away altogether.” The taller brother decided.

Steve didn’t even try to act like that didn’t bother him. “And I’m thinking that if you do that, there’s going to be some trouble.” He gave a quick wave to Bucky and Tony, headed back to the ship, laden with souvenirs, before stepping closer to the Rasputin brothers. “Trouble of the you owe us variety.”

The man took the hint. “We can go to 25.”

Steve faked being upset. He knew it was going to come to this. “Well, we’ll be taking a loss, but alright. You seem like good guys; consider it done.”

Nodding, the brother reached into his pocket and pulled out a sack of coins. Just as he held it up, a warning shot went off, and the sack fell to the ground. “Piotr and Mikhail Rasputin!” A voice called. A man was holding a gun, pointed at the brothers, and behind him were several other armed men, presumably police. “You are both wanted in connection to the illegal killing of Daniel Rand. You are bound by law to stand down.”

Steve and Thor, as well as the Rasputin brothers, had their hands up, not daring to make any sudden movements with so many guns on them. Steve leaned backwards slightly towards Thor. “Is it just me, or did this job get way more complicated?”

 

Pietro had to half feel his way along the walls. The alleyway was covered, making it dark, and because it was dark, spiders had decided to build their lovely webs at face-level with Pietro. And, of course, on top of that, there were random bits of cloth hanging down that he had to push out of the way.

After a few minutes of that, Pietro stepped out into an open field. A few hundred feet away, there was a circular platform - a stage, really - where people were dancing. Even more people were standing around it, clapping in time to the music. Slowly, carefully, Pietro made his way to the stage, standing at the back of the crowd. Wanda was already onstage, watching the dancers, analyzing the dance. After a moment, she smiled, hiked up her skirt, and started joining in.

Pietro had forgotten how much she loved to dance. She was smiling larger than anyone else, her eyes were full of joy, and she was having fun. Wanda made no protest when a young man grabbed her hand and started leading her. In fact, her smile just grew. Pietro found himself smiling as he watched his sister dance. 

Maybe border planets weren’t so bad after all.

 

\---

 

“Take care with that.” Thor growled as one of the officers tossed his gun into a pile with Steve’s and the brothers’.

“Seems we have a situation here.” Steve commented, ignoring Thor’s complaint.

“Who are you?” An officer - presumably the sheriff, if not the C.O. - asked, getting right into Steve’s space. The captain had a good few inches on the man, but he wasn’t the one with the gun.

“Just a bystander.” He reassured.

“This your beef?” He nodded to the cows.

“No, sir. You’re looking at the proper owners right there.” He gestured to the Rasputin brothers, making sure to not move his hands too much.

The sheriff grunted. “I’d like to see some paperwork on that cattle.” He took a step towards the younger brother, Piotr. Before anyone could really move, Piotr reached back, grabbed the gun of the officer behind him, punched the guy, and held the gun towards the sheriff. Before he could fire it, though, it was blasted out of his hand. From up on the hill, Natasha had taken the liberty to disarm him using a rifle.

As the police jumped into action, Mikhail reached down into his boot to grab a gun. Steve and Thor, still unarmed, dropped to the ground. Mikhail grabbed his brother, and the two brothers ran off into the woods.

“It didn’t go smooth.” Steve growled as he and Thor army-crawled to their weapons. “Why does it never go smooth?” He tossed Thor his holster and grabbed his own, pulling out the gun. He froze when he saw an object on the ground a few feet away.  _ The sack of coins. _

Deciding that it was a good day to be a greedy son of a bitch, Steve reached for the sack. A bullet ricocheted off the ground just centimeters from his hand, but he got it.

The police and the brothers were shooting at each other from opposite sides of the corral, over the cows. The cows were handling it surprisingly well. At that moment, Steve wished he was one of the cows. Shoving that thought aside, he and Thor crawled over to where the Rasputin brothers were. Mikhail had just gotten hit in the shoulder, and Piotr turned to check on him. Steve took it as his opportunity. He launched himself at the man’s back, effectively pinning him. The police were there in seconds.

 

Wanda was still having fun dancing, twirling around, letting strangers grab her hand and use her as a partner. They were all so happy. There was no worry, just... _ light _ . Light that outweighed the dark that hung over everyone most days. It was a good day, warm and calm and-

Wanda’s shoulder, just above her heart, was on  _ fire _ . She gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. Pietro saw her, she could feel it, but then something went black on his end. No, the pain wasn’t from him. From someone else; someone familiar. Someone nice who didn’t deserve it. She looked around furiously, trying to find her brother, but the dancing people got in the way, making everything spin and blur.

She was lost.

 

\---

 

Steve’s mouth opened and closed a few times. In all the chaos, he’d forgotten about Bruce. And now, the doctor was lying on the ground, a bullet in his shoulder, bleeding onto the dirt.  _ Shit _ . If Bruce died, Tony was going to kill Steve. And not in a painless way. He dropped onto one knee and patted Bruce’s arm.

“Stay with me, Banner.” It was probably lucky that Bruce had left his glasses back onboard the ship. If he’d fallen on them, he would’ve been hurt even worse.

“That’s a lot of blood.” Bruce noted, obviously struggling with consciousness.

“It means you’re not dead yet.” Steve almost smiled, but he knew it wouldn’t do much good.

“I’m,” Bruce started, then coughed. “I’m ‘fraid I might be needing a doctor.”

This time, Steve did smile. “That’s good. Keep being witty.” He turned towards the police as they walked by, carrying the Rasputin brothers on stretchers. “Stretcher,” He requested. They ignored him and kept walking. “Thor?” He asked.

“They are leaving.” Thor commented, watching them leave.

“Of course they are. They got what they came here for.”

“Did you get the money?”  _ Goddamn Asgardian and his one-track mind _ . Steve couldn’t help it. He gave Thor a withering glare, but patted his pocket as he did.

 

“What’s going on?” Tony demanded, running down the stairs as Steve, Thor, and Natasha entered the ship, carrying Bruce on a stretcher. “О Боже. Bruce!” She cried when she saw the doctor. “Bruce, can you hear me?” He wasn’t responding at this point. The only indication they had of him being alive was the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Tony stood by the door of the infirmary worriedly as Steve and Thor deposited Bruce onto the infirmary chair. Natasha turned on the overhead light and Thor rummaged through the medical supplies as Steve hit the intercom button. “Clint, get down to the infirmary. прямо сейчас.” He didn’t even bother waiting for a reply.

“We’ve gotta stop this bleeding.” Natasha said, cutting off Bruce’s shirt. She pressed a cloth over the wound, applying pressure. Steve had chucked the sack of coins onto the counter and was rifling through drawers, looking for supplies.

“It’s gonna be okay, Bruce.” Tony said, voice trembling slightly. “Cap and Nat have got lots of experience with this type of stuff. Seen a lot worse in the war.” She was trying to comfort herself, so nobody commented. “Bruce?” She whispered hoarsely, then choked back a sob. “He’s not breathing.”

Sure enough, at that moment, Bruce’s back arched and he began seizing, making little choked noises as he bounced up and down. Natasha held him down as Steve uncapped a syringe and plunged it into his left shoulder. He stilled almost immediately. Steve checked his pulse.

“He’s not dead, but he’s not good. We’ve got to see what we can do to help him.”

“О, ебать.” Clint was standing in the doorway of the infirmary, shocked by the scene in front of him.

“Clint, I want you to go into town. See if you can find the twins. We’re probably going to need some genuine medical training here.” There was an unspoken  _ hurry _ at the end of that sentence. With a nod, Clint ran off, not willing to waste a second of precious time.

 

“Faster. We’ve gotta go faster if we wanna get there before dark.” There were two men holding Pietro, one on either side, dragging him along. The one walking ahead was obviously the leader.

“Get where? Where are we going?” Pietro demanded.

“Shut up!” Was the leader’s response.

“Look, if it’s some kind of ransom you want, I can arrange something.”

“No. Talking.” The man growled in his face, so close that Pietro could see the saliva flying out of his mouth.

“No, you don’t understand!” He protested, straining against the men holding him. “My sister-” The man on his left punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

_ “Your sister is fine, Pietro,” Charles assured. He was wearing that look and using that tone, the one that said everything was okay, nothing was wrong, there’s not need to worry. It was less convincing now, coming from the guy in a wheelchair. _

_ “No, she’s not.” Pietro insisted. “Did you even look at the letters? Look at the letters.” He all but shoved them in his father’s face. _

_ “Well, I’m looking at letters.” Erik Lehnsherr flipped through the pages, not understanding what was going on. _

_ “These phrases don’t sound like her at all. And look, three of these words are misspelled.” He pointed out the errors. Both his father and Charles gave him blank, ‘so what?’ looks. “Father, she was correcting your spelling when she was three. She’s trying to tell us something! I think there’s a code.” _

_ Erik laughed, unable to contain his amusement. Pietro was so heartsick for his sister that he’d become deluded. Charles nudged his side warningly, but he looked just as doubtful. “A code? Really, Piet? You’re a man now; stop acting like a lost puppy whenever you sister isn't around.” _

_ Pietro glared at his father. He was only one inch shorter, and Pietro didn’t think it ever wouldn’t drive him mad. “Did you enjoy the Wellington’s ball?” He asked, unblinking and determined. _

_ “What?” _

_ Pietro held up a letter. “Wanda thought it was duller than last year. But, since we don’t know anyone named Wellington, I’m having trouble judging. Did you even read these?” _

_ “Of course I did!” Father actually seemed to get taller when he was angry, and that certainly didn’t help Pietro’s temper. _

_ “It’s just another one of her games.” Charles insisted, trying to break the tension between the two. “She’s probably bored, and just wants to be silly; you know how she is.” _

_ “She’s trying to tell us something that someone doesn’t want her to say!” _

_ Erik took a slow step towards his son. Gently, he cupped either of his cheeks. “Pietro,” He whispered, the storm in his eyes calming. “This is paranoia. It’s stress. If you talk like this at the hospital, it could affect your entire future.” _

_ Pietro recoiled from his father’s touch, horrified. “Who  _ **_cares_ ** _ about my future?” He cried. _

_ “You should.” _

_ “You’re a neurologist - a neurosurgeon in training - at one of the best hospitals in Capital City.” Charles reminded him, using the reassuring tone again. “You’re on your way to a major position, possibly even the Medical Elect. Are you seriously going to throw that all away? It’s what you’ve worked for your entire life. It’s more than just a position to you. We all know it. Just give it time. In a few months, you’ll turn around, and there she’ll be. Nothing can keep you two apart for long. Two halves of a whole, right?” _

 

Pietro was still being dragged through the woods, along a dirt trail. He looked to the side and saw a familiar shape in a red dress coming to him through the oaks. “No, no, no!” He cried, slipping out of his guards’ grip and running towards Wanda.

“Found you,” She declared with a grin. Well, at least she was smiling, even if it was at the worst possible moment.

“No. Wanda, go!” He pushed her away, but the leader of the trio grabbed her before she could go anywhere. One of the two men that had been holding Pietro grabbed on to Wanda and slung her over his shoulder. The other gave up trying to hold Pietro and just kept close behind him, ready to pounce if he tried anything.

“Let’s go,” the leader spat. “We’re wasting time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have seen the show, you will know that I did take some minor-ish creative liberties with this chapter. I'm proud of it, so if you don't like it go away. I hope you enjoyed!  
> Fun fact: This chapter has the most Russian of anything I've written thus far.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> сестричка = little sister (diminutive)  
> Вы гадят мне? = are you shitting me?  
> в таком случае = in this case  
> умная девочка = clever girl  
> Сукин сын = son of a bitch  
> Ты неприятный влагалище и я не могу выдержать вид вас. = you’re an obnoxious cunt and I can’t stand the sight of you  
> чертовски = fucking (my favorite expletive)  
> милая = sweet  
> какашка = piece of shit  
> Ерунда = Nonsense  
> О Боже = oh, god  
> прямо сейчас = right now  
> О, ебать = oh, fuck
> 
> did you think I was kidding?


	12. Safe: Pt II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve faces a dilemma that challenges his firmest beliefs, and Pietro contemplates the meaning of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Here we go.  
> WARNINGS: Blood, swearing, illness, mentions of jail/incarceration, and religious fanaticism. More specifically that of the really old kind. We're talking fire cleansing here. No one dies, though.
> 
> Once again, special thanks to ArmyGirl0604 for being my lovely beta.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Where’s Pietro? Why isn’t he with you?” Tony demanded as Clint hopped off the ATV, signing as well as speaking. Clint tended to take his aids out when he was driving fast.

“He wasn’t in town.” The pilot sighed, expression grim. “He wasn’t anywhere.”

“He  _ was  _ in town. We saw him earlier; him and Wanda. The town’s not that big!” Tony was talking quickly and loudly, obviously panicking.

“Believe me when I say he wasn’t there.” Clint was being as gentle as he could, but he needed to get the point across.

“He may have panicked when the authorities showed up.” Thor suggested, looking out at the woods worriedly.

Steve, entering the cargo bay from the infirmary, shook his head. “No. Kid can be called a lot of things, but a coward ain’t one of them.”

“You don’t think they were arrested, do you?” Bucky asked from above on the landing.

“Worse than that, honestly.” Clint admitted. “It looks like they got snatched.”

“ _ Kidnapped _ ?” Bucky was incredulous.

“I went by the sheriff’s office. If we’d checked the posted alerts for this rock, we might have known. Settlers up in the hills take people sometimes, usually tradesmen and such.”

“And now they’ve got themselves a doctor.” Steve summed up. “And we don’t.” He walked over to the control panel and closed the airlock. “We’re going.”

“And so we abandon them?” Thor growled, getting into Steve’s space and drawing himself to his full height. “You promised them sanctuary on this ship. Need I remind you that it was  _ your  _ idea for them to go into town? If you had simply recommended that they go back inside-”

“ You would’ve gotten angry at me for cooping them up again.” Steve interrupted. “As far as we know, there was just as good a chance of losing Tony or Bucky. They couldn’t have known Pietro was a doctor. We’ve already lost two people today. I don’t like it either, but we’ve got to leave them. I’m not losing another person if I can help it.” He gave Thor one last challenging look before turning on his heel and going back to the infirmary the way he came. “Clint, get us in the air!”

Thor had already started stomping away, and Clint had just been bounding up the stairs when Steve gave him the order. Bucky had retreated into his shuttle, presumably to try and forget the day’s events. Now it was just Tony, standing alone in the big, empty hull. She thought of Wanda, with her cute, childlike smile and swishy red dress with combat boots. Pietro, with his young, intelligent eyes, dark curls, and hands that were somehow simultaneously those of a lifelong laborer and a person who had never worked harder than picking up a pen a day in their lives. Their matching accents and eyes, the way they sometimes orbited around one another. The way Pietro could spout off medical trivia just as effectively as Bruce.

_ Bruce _ .

Without Pietro, the chances of him surviving were slim. Tony rubbed the spot on her shoulder where she’d been shot just a couple months earlier. If it hadn’t been for Bruce, she would’ve died, too. Tony wanted to blast something to bits. She could build parts for ships, work with computers in her sleep, and outdrink just about anyone. But she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out how to fix a human being.

The empty space got a whole lot emptier.

 

“We’re lost,” Wanda whispered. “Lost in the woods.”

“It’s okay,” Pietro whispered back. “They’ll find us. Once the captain realizes what happened, they’ll come looking.” He shouldn’t have opened his mouth. Right as he finished speaking, there was a familiar whir of a ship’s engine, and they looked up just in time to see  _ Avenger  _ lifting off and shooting into the horizon.  _ Fucking assholes. _

“See there?” The leader of the men chuckled, resting a grimy hand on Pietro’s shoulder. “Nobody’s coming for you, prettyboy. You best keep moving.”  

Pietro reached for Wanda’s hand as they pressed on forward. At least he still had her, not that it would do much good. But, if he was going to be forcefully dragged away from what semblance of civilization he’d come to not entirely hate, at least he had his other half with him. And she seemed to be handling the whole abandonment situation much more calmly than he was.

 

\---

 

Natasha sighed heavily and began dabbing at the blood still flowing from Bruce’s wound. “That bad?” He asked hoarsely. He’d regained consciousness, which was something, but he wasn’t coherent enough to give them instructions on what to do if need be.

“Hardly. Battle wounds can be much worse than this little scrape. I’ve seen men survive with a dozen holes this size in them.” They didn’t live comfortably, but they lived.

“Is that so?” 

“It is. I knew a man with a hole clean through his shoulder once. He used to keep a spare hankie in there.” When Natasha first told Clint that story, he didn’t stop laughing for hours. His laughter - well, any laughter - used to make her uncomfortable, anxious. Maybe she still wasn’t huge on it, but she liked it when her husband laughed.

“Where’s Pietro?” Internally, Natasha froze. Externally, she was much too well-trained for that. “Not back yet?”

Natasha replaced his bandage, then removed her latex gloves. She really hated those things. “We don’t hurry him on little things.” She kept her expression neutral, confident. “He’ll be along soon enough.”

“Still,” Bruce croaked, eyes fluttering shut. “He could hurry a little more.”

 

“Well, there’s Greenleaf. They’d have a med center there.” Clint pointed to the planet on the map.

Steve shook his head. “It’s too far; more than 10 hours. He wouldn’t make it.”

“You know where you can find what you need.” Bucky snapped.

Steve made a point to not look at him. “I don’t recall inviting you to the bridge, James.”

“You didn’t. Steve, you know where you can find a doctor. You know -”

Steve turned in his seat, glaring. “Bucky, he was unlucky enough to get himself grabbed in broad daylight. We don’t have time to be burning down forests looking for him. There’s nothing to ensure that we’d find him, or that he wouldn’t need a doctor himself.” Steve turned back to his station, flipping through the cortex, looking for  _ something _ .

“I’m not talking about Pietro.” Bucky’s voice had lowered, softened. “I’m talking about medical  _ facilities _ .” He emphasized the last two words, trying to make his point clear.

Steve stood up and got right in front of Bucky, eyes thunderous. “That is  _ not  _ an option. It’s not even a topic of discussion, not now, not ever.”

“Will you stop being a kid for five minutes and put away your stupid vendetta? He is  _ dying _ . We need a doctor, and they’re guaranteed to have one.”

Steve hated that he was right. Hated it with everything.

 

So, it turned out that the woods did lead somewhere. Through miles of identical woods, then over a creaky wooden bridge, and you get to a town. The building were old and dilapidated, paint bleached by the sun, but all the people milling about made it obviously a place that was well-inhabited.

“Look what we’ve got here.” Their kidnapper crowed. “We’ve got ourselves a bona fide doctor.” 

The townspeople, just as dirty as Pietro and Wanda’s kidnappers and dressed in clothes that were practically rags, began coming close, forming a ring around them. People were calling others over from outside, running down to try and catch a glimpse, and several had even started thanking God.

Pietro was starting to realize that this wasn’t someone trying to ransom him and his sister off. These may just be people that need them.

 

Thor wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was sitting on Pietro’s bed, looking around the room. Everything was clean and organized, almost too perfect, really, but there was still a lived-in feel to it. They were down there  _ alone _ . Who knows what they’d face or how it would affect them. The twins were good kids. They had gone through hell and left behind all they loved and knew, but they were still kind and good. Thor had seen enough bad to know what kind of good should be protected. When he found out their story, he vowed to himself that he would do all he could to keep them safe. To keep them good.

But that, it seemed, was an option that had been taken away. Thor stood up to leave the room when a piece of fabric sticking out from under the bed caught his eye. He leaned down and picked it up, suspecting he knew what it was. Just as he had suspected, it was his large, deep red blanket. A few days prior, Wanda had stolen it from his room and paraded around the halls with it draping from her shoulders, referring to herself as the Scarlet Queen of the Universe. He’d never had the heart to ask for it back.

He folded the blanket and held it under his arm as he left the room.

 

Down in the infirmary, Tony entered hesitantly. Natasha was sitting at Bruce’s side, watching him in case something happened. Tony stood opposite her. “Can I?” She asked, pointing at his hand. When he was sick, Tony always had to ask to hold her father’s hand, even when he was out cold.

“Of course. He’s asleep, though.”

Tony just nodded, lacing her fingers through his own. Still warm. He was always warm. “He did this for me once. Patched me up and kept watch. How’s he doing?”

“I cleaned it out and wrapped him up as well as I could. But, honestly, I don’t know.”

“Well, we’re headed for help, right?” It still marveled Natasha how young Tony could seem. Sure, she was only older than Natasha by a few years (one of the oldest of the crew, after Bruce and Clint), but she was a good mix of a young soul and an old soul. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen all the death and chaos Natasha had in her lifetime. Whatever it was, Nat liked it a lot better than the boisterous asshole she got to be after a few too many. Or just a bad day.

“Cap will come up with a plan.” Natasha only acted like she knew everything. She had learned to keep that from blowing up in her face.

“Well, that’s good. Right?”

Natasha shrugged. “If you ignore many, many of his previous plans.”

Tony didn’t laugh at the joke. Didn’t even smile. “I just…we  _ left  _ them there. It doesn’t seem right.”

Natasha sighed. “Most things don’t in this line of work.”

 

“Are you sure this is where you want to be?” Clint asked skeptically, looking out the front window.

“Oh, I’m entirely certain it’s not.” Steve deadpanned, willing the cruiser to explode. There it was; Hydra cruiser  _ Insight _ . Huge and gray and red and the very incarnation of everything Steve hated in this universe. But they had a whole mess of doctors, and Steve had a badly wounded one who needed immediate medical attention.

Steve nodded to Clint when static crackled over the radio. They were in range. “Be sure to ask nicely.”

“Hydra cruiser  _ Insight _ , this is Firefly transport  _ Avenger _ , requesting permission for docking.” There was a tense moment as they waited for a reply. 

“ _ Firefly transport  _ **_Avenger_ ** _ , prepare for docking orders. _ ” Steve was gone from the bridge before the message was even finished. God, did he hate this.

 

“In here,” the man was much gentler now than he had been when he led Pietro through the woods, speaking softly and nudging gently. “I figure it’s not as fancy as what you’re used to, but it’s what we got.” In the corner, there was a very pale, obviously sick man on a bed with two people hovering over him. “I got you a doctor.”

“Thank the Lord.” The nearer figure - a woman, fairly young - stood up and came to stand in front of Pietro, giving him a quick once-over.

“Monet will show you what’s what,” the man ensured, right before leaving. Even if he wasn’t being a dick anymore, he still wasn’t fond of them.

“Hello,” Monet greeted. She was pretty: dark skinned and brown-eyed, dressed about as neatly as they came in these parts. Strands of hair were sticking out from under the headscarf covering her hair and neck. “What’s your name?”

“Pietro,” Wanda told her with a fond smile, before he could introduce himself. 

“And who are you?” 

Wanda (ignoring Monet’s follow-up question) started walking over to the man on the bed, her eyes wide with some emotion Pietro couldn’t name. He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her back.

“Wanda, Wanda, no no no. Just sit down, okay?” Head bowed, she acquiesced, sitting down quietly on a stool by the door. “Is there a serious illness here?” Pietro asked.

“No, nothing major. People just get sick or injured. Mostly, they heal on their own, but sometimes…”

“Sometimes you need a doctor.” Monet nodded. Pietro looked around the room, eyes now more adjusted to the darkness. It was full of sick people in need of care. This, Pietro knew for sure that he could do. He rolled up his sleeves. “Bring me light, and any supplies you have.” He ordered. Monet nodded and ran off, eager to fulfill his request.

 

“You sanguine about our reception on a Hydra cruiser?” Natasha asked, pushing the button to open the airlock. They’d just docked, and there were people on their way.

“Of course,” Steve and Thor set down the stretcher with Bruce on it. He jogged to stand next to Natasha. They were the Captain and First Mate; they had to be front and center. “Side note: what does ‘sanguine’ mean?”

Natasha had to use large amounts of effort to keep from rolling her eyes. “Hopeful. And, in certain scenarios, such as this, it also means ‘bloody’.”

“Well, sanguine’s got all the bases covered.” Natasha gave him a small smirk before she pulled open the door leading to the outside door. Knowing what was coming, Steve raised his arms in a peaceful gesture for the second time that day.

Sure enough, on the other side of the door were armed soldiers, as well as uniformed officers. The soldiers rushed in first, checking to make sure the coast was clear. “We’re requesting aid, that’s all. We’ve got papers.” Natasha tossed him the book with their registration.

“What’s your business?” The commander asked as a sergeant read through the papers.

“We’re a freelance supply ship. We had an accident this morning. One of our crewmembers got hurt. Needs immediate medical attention.” Not lying. “Sooner would be better than later.” Steve emphasized, bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently. The commander took the papers from the sergeant and read over them carefully.

“You’re official seal’s out of date,” he noted. “Captain…Buchanan?” Steve could hear Natasha laughing at him mentally as the commander said the fake name.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve been through a checkpoint.” Definitely true. “Are you going to see to my man or not?”

“How did this happen?”

No lying. Lying would make it worse. “Bystander in a gunfight.” He blurted, before Natasha could feed anyone a lie. “Back on Kazan. You can check. Not he nor any of ours were the aggressors.”

The commander sighed, handing back the papers. “We are not an emergency facility, captain. Our services are not available to just anyone-”

“Get…my…ident card.” Bruce’s voice croaked. He had regained consciousness, just barely, and had managed to flip some of his blanket off his chest, showing off his red-stained bandage. With a weak, uncoordinated hand, he pointed to his left pocket. A sergeant fished it out, slid it into a scanner, and handed it to the commander. Steve and Natasha exchanged a confused look.

“Get this man to an infirmary on the double. Let’s go!”  _ What the hell? _

 

\---

 

“Keep that bandage clean, you understand?” Pietro asked. The girl nodded, turning to go back to her cot.

“She’s not quite right, is she?” Monet asked softly. They were looking at the same thing: Wanda. She was kneeling in front of a little blonde girl staring dead ahead.

“She’s been through some trauma,” Pietro admitted. “But she’s recovering.”

“She won’t get a good conversation out of Lorna; I can tell you that much.” Monet nodded at the girl in front of Wanda. “That little girl’s mute.”

“Do you know the cause? Was she born deaf? Damaged vocal cords?”

Monet shook her head. “No, nothing like that. She was fine until two years ago. One day she just stopped talking.” She hesitated a moment. “A place like this might be good for your sister, you know. It’s quiet, safe, and people look out for each other.”

Pietro snorted. “Yes, this is a lovely little village of kidnappers.”

“The Lord says judge not.” 

“They took us off the street.” Pietro argued, putting away some of his medical supplies.

“Sometimes life takes you to places you weren’t expecting.”

“ _ Life _ didn’t bring us here. Those men did.”

“You came here on a transport ship, right? Taking a journey?” Pietro tried to ignore her, feeling a woman’s forehead with the back of his hand. Not amazing, but better. “I’ve found that it’s the way of life that journeys end when and where they want to. And that’s what you call home.”

“This isn’t our home.” He growled.

“If it isn’t here, then where?”

 

Thor was pacing back and forth, anxiety coming off of him in waves as his heavy footsteps echoed against the hard, immaculate floors of the cruiser. Unlike Steve, it wasn’t the sheer Hydra-ness of it all that made him uncomfortable, it was the confinement, the monitoring. He felt like a caged animal.

And Steve and Natasha were ignoring him.

“What do you think? Doctor has some kind of connection to Hydra?” Natasha asked. They were standing in an empty room looking into the operating room where a team of doctors was working on Bruce.

“Sure looks like it. Still, nice guy like him, it would surprise me if he did.”

“That’s the problem with people.” Natasha sighed. “They’ve all got a story to tell.”

 

“Wanda? Wanda?” Pietro had taken his eyes off of her for two minutes, and she disappeared. Along with the little girl, Lorna.

“What’s wrong?” Monet asked.

“She’s gone. So is the girl.”

“Lorna. I’ll check out back.” Monet hurried to the back door, and Pietro went to the front door. As soon as he pushed it open, he deflated slightly. There was Wanda, walking towards him, using one up the top layers of her skirt as a makeshift basket for…something. “What is that?” He asked worriedly.

“For you,” she replied, as if it was obvious. “I picked them.” Upon closer inspection, Pietro could see she was carrying some kind of small, dark purple berries.

Pietro went over to the table at the center of the room and grabbed an empty bowl, wiping out little bits of dust and dirt that had settled at the bottom. “Put them in here,” He said, kneeling in front of her. “Don’t want to stain your dress.” Wanda tipped her skirt and the berries rolled into the bowl with ease.

Wanda plucked a berry from the bowl and fed it to Pietro. He went with it; he knew she most likely wouldn’t poison him. “You need to eat, двойник.”

Pietro smiled as he chewed, recognizing not only her gesture, but the flavor of the fruit. “Hodgeberries.” He stood up, smiling at the bowl. “Do you remember when we found those giant hodgeberry bushes at the McCoy’s estate? We thought they’d grown wild, but it seems not.” Wanda’s face fell as he reminisced. “It was a long while ago.” He put the bowl back down on the table. Of course he’d upset her.

“I took you away from there.”

“No!” 

Wanda nodded. “I know I did. You don’t think I do, but I get…confused.” Her voice cracked. “I remember everything. I remember too much. And some of it’s made up, some of it can’t be explained, and there’s secrets-” Her lower lip had started trembling, and she was tugging at the sleeves of her dress. Pietro put a hand on either shoulder, shushing her, trying to be reassuring. “But I remember. You gave up everything you had, everything you worked for, to find me.” Her eyes were watering. “And you found me broken. It’s hard for you. You have up everything you had.” She ended with a choked sob. Pietro pulled her close, let her bury her face in his shoulder and cry. 

He shushed her, stroking her hair as she cried. “сестричка, everything I have is right here.”

Sniffling, Wanda pulled up her head and smiled at him. She fed Pietro another berry. “You need to eat.” She said, echoing what she told him before. “We won’t be here long.” She was confident, smiling. The only hint that she had ever been crying was the bit of red at the tip of her nose. “Papa will come and take us home.” Pietro’s face fell. She was confused again. He sat down at the table heavily. Wanda sat across from him, placing the bowl of berries between them. “He’ll come. And I’ll get better. I’ll get  _ better _ .”

Pietro nodded thoughtfully, grabbing a berry. “These are better than the McCoy’s berries.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“They are.” Wanda agreed. “Except they’re poison.” Pietro spit out the berry immediately. When he looked up, Wanda was giggling, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. “You believed her!” she laughed. “Made a silly face.”

“Ты такой брат.” He teased, poking her nose.

“You should get to bed.” They turned and saw Monet leading Lorna over to her cot.

“We should probably think about doing the same. It’s been a big day, with the abduction and everything.” Pietro still wasn’t over that. He wasn’t going to be over that for a long time.

Monet ignored the comment. “Well, you don’t have to sleep here. There’s a house set aside for you. We’ve been looking for a doctor for a while, so things are all ready.”

That took him by surprise. “Really?”

“Her sister was killed.” Pietro nearly jumped when Wanda spoke. She was wearing that creepy, inquisitive, unblinking gaze she had. The one that made it feel like she was looking into your soul. “Her mother went crazy, killed the sister. This one lived.”

“Lorna talked to you, honey?” Monet asked, kneeling in front of Wanda. “It’s true what she’s saying.” She told Pietro. “Poor woman went out of her mind, tried to kill her two girls. Lorna lived.” Monet grabbed Wanda’s hand. “Honey, you are an angel. No one’s been able to get Lorna to speak even a peep. It’s a miracle!” She was laughing, eyes brimming with excited tears.

Wanda cocked her head, frowning. “Lorna doesn’t talk. Her voice got scared away.” She put a hand to her throat to emphasize the point. Done with the conversation, Wanda perked up and smiled. “I hear crickets.”

Monet looked scared and worried. These were highly religious people, they might not take well to all of Wanda’s…peculiarities. “If she doesn’t talk, then how do you know?”

“My sister’s very good at…” Pietro trailed off, not knowing how to explain Wanda. Monet stood up slowly, never taking her eyes off Wanda. “What’s wrong?”

“ _ And they shall be among the people _ ,” she recited, eyes wide but voice confident, “ _ And they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And you will know them by their crafts. _ ”

Pietro frowned. That was obviously some kind of verse from a religious text, but not one that he recognized. Not to mention that it was a bit vague. “What are you talking about?”

“ _ Thou shalt not suffer a  _ **_witch_ ** _ to live _ .”

Oh, shit.

 

\---

 

_ “Have you completely lost your mind?” Father growled. The police officer had just dragged Pietro into the lobby, a little rumpled but no worse for wear. _

_ “Very nearly,” He admitted. _

_ “I got the wave at the Pryde’s. I had to leave Charles at the dinner table.” _

_ “Oh, sorry Father,” He snarled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I wouldn’t have tried to save Wanda’s life if I knew there was a dinner party going on. Like you don’t hate them.” _

_“Don’t get started with that. I just had to spend two_ ** _thousand_** _credits to get you out of there, and I had to walk through that door, which goes on my permanent profile. Are you trying to destroy this family?” Pietro knew his father had spent some time behind bars himself, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to know._

_ “I didn’t realize it would be this easy. But Father, I didn’t do anything wrong, I-” _

_ “You were in a blackout zone!” His father had come from one. Another thing he wasn’t supposed to know. _

_ “Talking to someone who could help Wanda. And I’m going right back there.” _

_ “ _ **_Вы наиболее определенно нет_ ** _.” He growled, grabbing Pietro’s arm and pushing him back. “This is a very slippery slope you are on, son. You have no idea how far down you can or will go, and I will not let you drag us down with you.” There was anger in his eyes, but something old and...scared as well. Something that remembered the past Pietro should not know about. _

_ “Meaning what?” _

_ “I won’t come for you again, Pietro. If you end up here or get mixed up in something worse, consider yourself on your own. I will not, under any circumstances, come for you.” There was more of that fear, but it was younger. Afraid Pietro would leave. Afraid he would have to finally admit to himself what a terrible father he had been. “Now, are you coming home?” _

 

Monet was in the town square, pulling the cord of a large bell with surprising ease. It was the dead of night, but people were awake still and gathering quickly.

“This is crazy!” Pietro cried. “You’re supposed to be the teacher here. What is it exactly that you are trying to teach?”

“What’s going on?” A man asked, grabbing the cord from Monet to stop the tolling. “What are you dragging us from our beds for?”

“The new doctor’s sister is a witch!” She shrieked, pointing at Wanda. “She looked into Lorna’s mind, saw things she couldn’t!”

“No, Wanda is not a witch!” Pietro insisted, looking around at all the villagers. “She’s just a troubled girl.”

“I’m sure she is.” The man assured, coming to get a closer look at Wanda. He was a huge man, perhaps even taller than Thor, and just as broad. “You’re not a witch, are you, маленький ягненок? I’m the patron here. Do you know what that means?”

Wanda nodded hesitantly. “Yes. It means you’re in charge. Ever since the old patron died.”

He nodded, smiling. “That’s right.”

“He was sick, but getting better.” She continued, back to her soul-gazing look. “You were alone in the room with him.” Before she could say any more, the patron step forward and slapped her across the face, sending her to her knees. Pietro tried to get between them, but was pulled aside by two other villagers.

“This girl is a witch.”  The patron declared. “She reads minds and spins falsehoods. We must purge the devil from within her! With  **fire** !” As he said those last words, two men grabbed Wanda. She started screaming, and for the first time in a long while, Pietro and Wanda were perfect mirrors of each other.

 

“Hydra patched you up well.” Steve commented as Bruce woke up.

“Hydra?” He sounded surprised.

“Yep. They let us come and they let us leave, no problem. Now, are you gonna tell me what was on your ident card that got us such high-quality treatment?”

Bruce shrugged with some difficulty. “I’m an Osirian-trained doctor and scientist. They like scholars, I suppose.”

“Nobody likes doctors.” Steve argued. He’s seen his fair share. “They poke and prod and tell you everything that’s shit about your body. And as for scholars, most of ‘em got cactuses up their asses.” Bruce chuckled at that. “But seriously, are you going to tell me?”

“Maybe one day.” Bruce mused, taking a sip from the water on his bedside table. “But not today.” He leaned back against the pillows, sighing heavily. “It’s good to be home.”

 

Thor was cleaning the coins, making sure to get all the dried blood of the metal surface. No one likes bloody money. It ruins the fun in getting paid. Besides, Rocket got the nickname ‘raccoon’ because of his affinity for shiny things. Well, that and the fact that he tended to smell like garbage. 

He needed something to distract from the twin-sized hole in the crew.

“Rocket’s getting impatient for his share.” Natasha reported, coming down the stairs into the lounge. “Wants us to drop it off with his men on the Kowlan fed base.”

“I suppose you enjoy having the smaller risk for complications.” Thor growled, not looking up from his scrubbing.

Steve glared at the back of his head. “The fact that I don’t like complications doesn’t mean I don’t like the twins. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You prefer things to be simpler.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. “Simpler,” Steve muttered to himself as he left the lounge, “But when is anything ever simple?”

 

You would think these villagers burned people at the stake regularly. The platform was set up already, and it took a matter of moments to raise the pole and tie Wanda to it. “Take me instead.” Pietro begged the patron, voice hoarse from screaming. “Take my life instead of hers.”

“The witch must die. God commands it.” The patron nodded to a villager carrying a torch. He approached the platform, reaching down to light the brush around Wanda’s feet. Pietro ran at him and knocked him to the ground. Two other men came at him, and he made sure to hit them square in the jaw.

“She has done nothing to you!” He screamed, hot tears pouring down his face. “If she dies tonight, it will not be because of God’s will! It will be  _ you _ ! Your paranoia, your ignorance!” The townspeople murmured among themselves, but no one moved. Pietro climbed onto the platform to stand next to his sister. She smiled down on him, comforting and sweet. His other half.

“That’s not going to stop us, doctor.” The patron told him. He knew that. It was why he’d gotten up with her. It was why he hugged her tight, not bothering to try and untie her hands from behind her. It was why he told the patron, without any tremor in his voice, to light the pyre.

“Time to go.” Wanda whispered to him. He buried his face in her hair. Two halves of a whole.

And then the wind picked up.

And there was a thrum in the air.

And lights began to shine down onto the village.

Pietro opened his eyes, looked up, and nearly started whooping with joy. Up above him was the shape of a familiar ship.  _ Avenger _ . The bottom hatch opened to reveal Thor and Bucky both, strapped into harnesses, cocking and pointing nasty-looking rifles at the villagers. A sniper Companion; the concept would never not be bizarre to Pietro. 

The villagers began panicking, not quite sure what was going on.

“Well, look at this!” A familiar voice boomed. Steve Rogers came around a corner behind the villagers, Natasha at his side. His shotgun was resting casually on his shoulder, but hers was pointed at anyone and everyone. “Looks like we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?”

“Big damn heroes, sir.” Natasha replied.

“Aren’t we just.” Up above, Bucky rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. Steve was a bit fond of making a spectacle, whether he’d admit it or not. “Sorry to interrupt, folks, but you’ve got something that belongs to us.” The villagers parted like the Red Sea, not wanting to come anywhere near the scary space man with a gun and his partner. “And we’d like it back.”

“This is a holy cleansing. You cannot impede God’s will.” The patron argued, standing more boldly than others, but still not coming close. 

Steve and Natasha hopped up onto the platform, guns pointed at the crowd. “See those men up there with the big guns? I’m not saying you weren’t hard to find, ‘cause you were, and it was kind of an inconvenience to us. You see, one of those men wanted to come back and is a more than a little mad at you for taking his friends. The other has quite a bit of compassion for those kids there, a lot of rage to begin with. That one is looking to crack some skulls. The former is not as willing, but much more able. So it’s really their will you should be worrying about.” Steve could feel Bucky’s eye roll. He lowered his voice slightly, not having to quite scream over the hum of the engine and said to Pietro, “Your talent for alienating people is near miraculous, you know that?”

“It’s a delight.” Pietro looked out at the crowd, wondering if they could overpower Steve and Natasha, even with Thor and Bucky up above. Thor would cut people down in a heartbeat if he was in a bad enough mood - and by the sound of it, he was, but Bucky would go for a more non-lethal tactic. Unless, something told him, they got too close to Steve, or even landed a blow. Then there would be carnage. Pietro wasn’t sure why he thought this, but he had a feeling he was right.

“Cut her down.” The captain ordered.

“This girl is a witch,” The patron reminded him.

“Yeah, but she’s our little scarlet witch.” He cocked his gun and pointed it at the patron. “So you’re going to cut her the hell down right now.”

 

\---

 

It was strange to be put in a bear hug after so long without any physical affection from anyone but Wanda, but the embrace from Thor was welcome. Tony had ruffled Pietro’s hair and fretted over Wanda’s dress, and Pietro apologized to Bucky for being rude back in the shop. Natasha had patted his shoulder after he came down from the platform and held onto his arm the whole way back to the ship, and Clint had patted him on the back. He’d forgotten the little ways that people showed affection.

Once all the affections were done, Pietro went to check up on Bruce. He ran into Steve on the way out of the infirmary.

“I just checked up on him. He’s fine. Resting. They took good care of him.” The captain nodded, relieved. “A decent wound and I wasn’t around. I’m sorry.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, you were busy trying to get yourself up in flames, so I think we can make an exception. This stuff happens, you know.”

“Captain, can I ask why you came back for us?”

Steve shrugged. “You’re on my crew.”

“Yeah, but you don’t even like me. Why did you come back?”

“Are your ears broken? You’re a part of my crew. End of discussion. Now, dinner’s in ten. No need to get dressed up.” With a wave, the captain walked away, off to the bridge or the dining room or somewhere away from Pietro. He smiled at the man’s retreating form. 

Dinner felt like they had when Pietro was younger. People were telling jokes, smiling, fighting over the last roll. Bucky had taken off his holosleeve, finally comfortable enough without it around the twins. Plus, with the soft amber glow of the dining area, the metal didn’t cause much glare. At one point, Clint laughed so hard at an offhand comment Natasha made that water came spouting out his nose, sending the rest of the crew into hysterics. Pietro had seen his father do that exactly once, and it was a cherished memory.

There had been a lot of memories of his father that day. He looked around the table and thought what his father - what his parents - would have thought of them. Father would have gotten along with most of them quite well, but would have turned his nose up at them as high society commanded. Papa would have been friends with them. And Erik Lehnsherr, the man Pietro’s father had spent his life trying to bury, well, he would have been one of them. He  _ was _ one of them.

And Charles would have loved them all for their bright spirits and the way that, at the very core, they were good, kind human beings. And he would have adored the traveling. Maybe not the life-threatening peril, but definitely the travel.

Yes, it was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading, but I have a slight announcement to make. As several of you will know, this is a repost of a fanfiction that was previously deleted. I wrote the first five episodes before I was forced to take down the fic and start rewriting. Because of this, there's going to be more time between updates, as I'm going to be doing a lot more writing. I'll do my best to update frequently, but I make no promises.  
> However, the next episode is one of my favorites, so I'll be eager to get that one done.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> двойник = counterpart  
> сестричка = little sister (diminutive)  
> Ты такой брат. = you are such a brat  
> Вы наиболее определенно нет. = You are most definitely not.  
> маленький ягненок = little lamb
> 
> Next episode: Our Mrs. Rogers!


	13. Our Mrs. Rogers: Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of Avenger do A Good Thing. Steve somehow ends up with a wife??? There are a lot of complicated feelings involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you would've gotten this chapter a day earlier but my beta and I had to fangirl at each other lol. Speaking of my beta, many many thanks again to ArmyGirl0604.  
> WARNINGS: brief gun violence, drinking, mentions of sexual abuse, nudity, and - of course - feelings. So many feelings.

The amphibious cart moved easily through the water of the river, partially thanks to the strong, steady horses pulling it. It was a nice day: not too hot, not too cold, not too sunny, and with plenty of shade to balance out the brightness of the day. The back of the wagon was covered, and two figures, hunched over slightly, were sitting in front. With the exception of the sloshing of horses through water and the occasional chirping bird, all was quiet.

Until the riders came out from the trees, that is. A good half-dozen of them, from all directions. They stood firmly in the way of the cart. All were armed and clearly ready and willing to kill.

“Sorry to interrupt, folks, but I believe you have something of mine.” The lead thug said.

“It is not _yours_ ,” spat one of the figures on the cart. A man, hunched over, hat pulled low over his face. Next to him was what was presumably a woman, going by the bonnet and dress, wrapped almost entirely in a brown blanket. There were bits of blond hair sticking out from under the man’s hat, and his accent sounded a bit forced, but these thugs didn’t care about that. Hell, they might not have been smart enough to notice.

The thug laughed. “You think we wouldn’t find out you changed your route? You’re gonna give us what we’re due and every other damn thing on this boat. And,” he added as an afterthought, “I think you’re gonna let me have some one-on-one time with the missus.”

The male figure chuckled. “No, you’re mistaken. This is my sister, and trust me when I say that she’s a powerfully ugly creature.”

The female figure raised its head to look at the male. The thugs couldn’t see her face; it was shaded well by a bonnet. “How could you say that?” She demanded, aghast, in a suspiciously deep voice for a woman. “And how _dare you_ shame me in front of new people.”

“If I could make you beautiful, I would.”

She harrumphed. “You are not the man I grew up with.” The two figures made a move as if to go back to their previous, hunched positions, but instead sat up straight and whipped out concealed guns, pointing them at the thugs. Grinning, Steve pulled back the bonnet with his spare hand, relishing in the way the lead thug’s smirk fell off his face. “Now, you’re gonna think real hard about this: you’ve been bullying this area for a while; they’d love to see you dead. Because of this, I’ll give you a couple options. You can come and live in a nice comfy jail cell. But, if your fingers so much as think about reaching for that gun you’ve got there, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you.” Clint had dared him, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face uttering those words. _Showed you, Barton._

There was a good thirty seconds of chaos following that particularly memorable threat where everyone was shooting at one another, but their secret weapon ensured that they won with ease. The secret weapon, in this case, was Natasha, who had been hiding in the back of the cart with the cargo. It was a good plan that almost always worked: if the men fail, which they probably will, Natasha can handle it.

 

\---

 

“I did a good thing, right?” Steve was standing at the edge of the village square with Wanda, watching the townsfolk putting out candles and what looked to be several fire pits in the making. Pietro was tending to a young man’s broken leg, and the rest of the crew were god-knows-where, so Steve was keeping an eye on Wanda.

“Depends on who you ask. These people here think so. The ones you killed to make them happy wouldn’t share their opinion.” A surprisingly wise statement coming from a girl in a floral bonnet (her latest thing was stealing people’s clothes).

“Yeah, I know that. But it wasn’t just about the money, it was because I wanted to help. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Wanda fixed him with a quizzical look, her blue eyes boring into him uncomfortably. “I’m not the one you should ask, Captain. I can judge you, but I can’t pass judgement.” Again, weirdly wise. “And then there’s the matter of my sanity.”

“I’m pretty sure crazy people don’t know they’re crazy.”

Wanda sighed heavily, as if exasperated after having to explain something one too many times. “A lot of us do. We’re just too crazy to care. Besides, I’m too smart to not know.”

“Yeah, I guess you are. Can I ask what it’s like being crazy?”

“You can ask. Won’t like my answer.”

“Try me.”

“It’s always me, but sometimes it’s not. I can tell when it’s not me, but it doesn’t feel any different. It feels different to Pietro, though.” She looked down at her feet dejectedly.

Steve took a leap of faith and ruffled Wanda’s hair. “Doesn’t change how he feels about you, though.” Wanda nodded. Steve leaned in close to whisper into her ear. “This is just a suggestion, but I think you and your brother should stick around. It looks like there’s going to be quite the party tonight.”

She looked up at the village square, eyes searching something Steve couldn’t see. “There will be,” she agreed. “But Pietro and I won’t be there.”

“Why’s that?”

“Not important to this chapter of the story.”

Steve chuckled. “I dread the day that you stop surprising me, Wanda.”

“It won’t come.”

“Good.”

 

The villagers were dancing, celebrating, drinking. There were several bonfires lit, music was playing, and there was plenty of good food. Yeah, this was one of those days that Steve was glad they weren’t utter scum. Being decent human beings on occasion had its perks. He and Bucky were currently walking in a slow circle around the proceedings, taking in the sight of people happy to be well. They both waved as they passed Clint and Natasha, who were sitting by a smaller fire, quite content in each other’s arms.

“We should be heading to Beaumond next. You should be able to find some work there, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yes, thank you. Don’t get me wrong, all this is great, but…”

“It’s not your usual clientele. I get it. I got it when you first joined up. Man’s gotta eat, right?”

The Companion laughed. “For sure. Now, remind me why Natalia wasn’t the one in the dress?”

“Tactics, Buck. She’s our secret weapon, we needed her in the back. Plus,” he admitted, “those cotton dresses feel kind of nice. Lots of airflow.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m not even going to ask, because I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“I thought I told you about it last time we were on Melinoe.”

They stopped for a moment as Steve thought. “Oh, yeah, you did say something like that. The whole stabbing thing kind of overpowered the image of you in a dress.”

“Well, in that case, thank goodness for stabbing.”

“You want me to get stabbed again? That can probably be arranged.”

Bucky laughed and linked his arm with Steve’s. “At least wait until after the party.”

 

Across the way, Thor was having a very heartfelt moment with an old man that had just gifted him a rainstick. Upon later speculation, it was decided that it was due to his inebriated state that he was moved to such emotions. Actually, though he’d never admit it, Thor just really likes rain. And big sticks. It was a good match. That and the booze combined made for a slightly disturbingly touching scene.

Seeing a man as large as Thor crying couldn’t really be described any other way.

 

Bruce had just finished covering up the last of the bodies with a thin layer of dirt. They’d be buried semi-properly in the morning. This was just to show that they were dead and could no longer bother the townspeople. He looked over towards where the captain and Thor were sitting. A young woman had just placed a flower crown on the captain’s head. Steve was smiling, but Bruce frowned. That was some tradition, he just couldn’t remember what it was. She then handed him a bowl, probably filled with wine, and watched intently, making sure Steve drank it all.

Having finished of the wine, Steve leaned back, grinning lazily, blood thrumming with alcohol and post-victory high. The girl stood up and started dancing, inching her way back towards the fire and the main circle of dancing people. She wasn’t dancing provocatively, per se, but her dress was tight enough around the torso that her motions certainly helped emphasize her curves. Steve watched her ministrations, but perhaps not with quite the ardor she had wanted. Bruce saw the captain nudge Thor and point to his temple, presumably making a comment about the flower crown. As with most things, Steve looked strangely good in it.

After a few minutes of dancing alone, the girl came back with a friend. Her friend grabbed Thor’s hand and dragged him onto the makeshift dance floor while the girl held out her hand to Steve, eyes full of anticipation. He accepted her hand and flashed her a bright smile as she led him towards the fire. Bruce could see the effects of the alcohol in the slight sway in the captain’s step, but he was sure it wasn’t going to cause any trouble dancing. In the end, he was actually not bad at all. There were a couple times that Bruce could tell that he nearly stepped on her toes, but other than that he exuded nothing but confidence.

 

“Elder Philipps, thank you again for the hospitality.” Steve stood to the side of the ramp with the village elder while the townspeople carried their gifts into the hull.

“We owe you much more, captain. I hope our gifts can come close to repaying you and your crew.”

“I can tell you for certain that Thor’s not ever letting go of that stick.” Steve said with a chuckle.

Natasha ran down the ramp to Steve and pulled him away from the Elder. “Hydra patrol heading into atmo right now.” She whispered urgently.

“Well, we’ve got to fly.” Steve shook Philipps’ hand and gave a wave to the people gathered around the ship.

“My people and I will be sure to pray for a safe voyage. And that we see you back here again, my friend.” Philipps patted Steve on the shoulder.

“You can count on it.” As Steve walked backwards on the ascending ramp, the villagers took up a chorus of excited goodbyes, at which Steve couldn’t help but smile. He’d almost forgotten what doing the right thing felt like.

 

Once they were in the air, it was just Steve in the cargo bay. There were a few baskets of goods and small barrels of wine lying around, so he was putting them away into storage cabinets with the rest of the gifts. He was putting away the last of the packages when a woman came out from seemingly nowhere, causing him to jump and make a noise he would deny being able to produce until his dying day.

It was the same girl from the night before. Pale, blonde, with wide, innocent eyes. She was half-crouched behind a stack of crates as Steve breathed heavily, still dealing with the shock.

“Who the hell are you and how did you get on my ship?”

“What do you mean?”

Steve stood up and walked over to meet her, ignoring the way she creepily mirrored his actions. “I think I was pretty clear. What are you doing here?”

“You know I’m to cleave to you.” She said it like it was obvious. Not quite like Steve was stupid, but it was close.

“To what to who?” Okay, now Steve was definitely confused, on top of increasingly concerned.

The girl gave him an almost pitiful look. “Did Elder Philipps not tell you?”

“Tell me what? Who are you?” he demanded.

“Captain Rogers, sir-” she looked down at her hands, afraid of his reactions to her next words. “I’m your wife.”

And in the thirty seconds that followed, Steve looked like a deer in headlights crossed with a fish that wanted to catch flies. There’s no easy way to react to that.

 

\---

 

“Could you repeat that, please? I don’t think I heard you right.” Steve, unlike his pilot, had perfect hearing, and he knew it. But a lot can change after a night of drinking, right?

“I am your wife,” she restated, refusing to meet his eyes. “That was your agreement with Elder Philipps. Since he had neither cash nor livestock-”

“I-I’m sorry,” Steve interrupted. “Can we go back to the part where you and I are _married_?” God, he was never going to hear the end of this one. Assuming there _was_ an end to this one.

“You don’t like me.” It was both a question and a statement.

“I can’t like you; I’ve never met you.” Steve looked helplessly towards Natasha and Thor and Natasha as they came into the cargo bay from the lounge. “Natasha, why do I have a wife?”

“Normally I would complain, but in this case curiosity seems to have won over jealousy. Why _did_ you get a wife, captain?” The girl was arguably tall (taller than Natasha, in any case), but Thor loomed over her easily. Despite his casual, relatively friendly demeanor, she flinched away from him.

“We’re not married,” Steve insisted.

“I’m sorry you’re ashamed of me.” The girl said, shrinking into herself slightly.

“I’m not ashamed of you!” Knowing conversation with the woman would be difficult for him, Steve turned to Natasha. “Nat, can you get Clint down here?” Clint was bad at a lot of things, but he was definitely better with people than Steve, and he was the only one on the ship that knew how to husband.

Okay, this day had gone really weird. They were already at the point that Steve’s brain had forgotten how grammar worked.

He was interrupted from his thoughts when Natasha turned on the shipwide P.A. “This is Natasha. All crew report to the cargo bay immediately.”

““All”? I said Clint!”

“Captain, everyone should have a chance to celebrate with you on this special day.” Her voice was dripping with her too-convincing feigned ignorance, but the smirk on her lips was enough for Steve to tell how much she was loving this.

“There’s nothing special about it!” Steve insisted. “I don’t even know her.”

“You may want to before someone else does.” Thor suggested, giving the girl a quick once-over. He wasn’t interested in her, but in their line of work, a girl as frail as her would be snatched up quickly.

“Thor, be nice.” Natasha snapped, shoving him away from the girl.

“Who’s the new recruit?” Bruce asked, coming down the stairs, Tony bounding ahead of him. The rest of the crew followed shortly after, Bucky coming down from his shuttle, Pietro from the infirmary, Clint from the bridge, and Wanda from whatever corner she’d been nestled in. That was her latest thing: hiding in corners and humming to herself. Sometimes it was creepy, sometimes it was cute.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet...” Steve rubbed his temples, knowing what came next would not end well, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Tony’s eyes went wide as she gasped. Bucky, of course, had been the last to arrive, so he was at the back of the group. No one saw as he went rigid, eyes filled with devastation. His face was a mix of this devastation and an intense anger. Bucky’s metal hand clenched into a fist, the plates on his arm rippling along with the motion.

“You got _married_!” Tony cried. “What the hell am I going to tell Avvie?” Several of the crew bit back laughs as Steve shot the mechanic a glare.

“Well, um...Mazeltov?” Pietro stammered, somewhat more confused than everyone else.

“We always knew you two kids would get together.” Clint said enthusiastically. “Who is she, exactly?” He asked, looking around, hoping someone knew what the hell was going on.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Steve sighed. The girl sobbed quietly at his words. “Oh god - no, please don’t do that.”

Rolling her eyes, Wanda breezed past Steve and wrapped her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “He makes everyone cry eventually. He doesn’t mean to.”

“I don’t make people cry!” Steve turned to Clint, who was shamelessly laughing at him. “Clint, turn us around.”

“I can’t. Sorry cap.”

“What the hell do you mean? Turn us the hell around!”

“I can’t.”

As the captain and pilot bickered, Bruce walked over to Pietro and tapped him on the shoulder. “Have you still got that encyclopedia?”

Pietro nodded. “Я делаю. Один момент.”

 

“There’s a bulletin on the cortex.” Clint explained. “Regarding the murder of a prefect’s nephew.”

“Сукин сын,” Steve muttered.

“Yep. One of our bandits had family ties. So - and this is just a suggestion - if you don’t feel like being executed, I would recommend we keep on course. But you’re the boss, of course.” Natasha punched her husband in the arm. “Ow! What was that for, he is!”

Natasha shrugged and wrapped her arms around Clint’s middle. “Look, Steve, he’s right. Our best chance is to keep on course to Beaumond. Besides, it gives you time to enjoy your honeymoon.” Natasha wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Steve really wanted to hit something. “This isn’t happening.” The girl started crying even harder.

“For christ’s sake, Steve, can you at least act like a human being for just a minute?” Bucky snapped. All eyes in the room flew to him. He and Steve bantered and argued, but the level of outright malice in the Companion’s voice was new to say the least.

Steve’s jaw clenched as his eyes met Bucky’s. He may have just done irreparable damage to whatever convoluted version of a relationship they had. God, there was no way to fix this without making things worse first. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and took a few careful steps towards his not-wife. “Look, you have great qualities, I don’t doubt that at all but I never married you.”

“Actually, you did.” Everyone turned to look at Bruce, who was wearing his glasses and reading from a tablet. “Last night, actually. “First, the woman lays the wreath upon her intended,” - that would be the adorable flower crown you so proudly wore last night - “which represents his sovereignty.””

“Okay, I remember that much.” Steve ignored Tony and Clint giggling in the background.

““And then he drinks of her wine,” - that definitely happened - “and then there is a dance with a joining of hands”. That would be the marriage ceremony of the Triumph settlers. She wasn’t lying, captain. She _is_ your wife.”

Unable to hold back anymore, Tony burst into hysterical laughter, clutching at her middle. “Oh my _god. Your face, Steve!_ You-you,” her words became incomprehensible as she laughed harder and harder. “Oh, I’m so glad I agreed to this job. But all joking aside,” Tony went back to semi-serious fairly quickly, though she was wiping away amused tears, “while Cap _technically_ married you, sweetcheeks, it wasn’t intentional. Look, you’re cute, and I’m sure he would like you if he got time to know you, but a) Cap here isn’t a marrying man, b) he would be slightly less upset if he hadn’t been drunk when this all happened -”

“That’s not true!”

“-but, that wouldn't make him not upset, and c) he’s more of a brunette guy. He’s already been verbally abused enough in the past few minutes, so I’m going to save him the burden of having to ask this particular question.” Tony turned from the girl to Bruce. “What does it say about divorce?”

Steve flinched as the girl ran away towards the infirmary, sobbing loudly. Wanda glared at him, but made no move to follow. Instead, she looked at Bucky, wearing an expression that was almost expectant. The Companion didn’t notice, of course, because he was alternating between glaring daggers at Steve and Tony, respectively.

“Ты такой романтичный.” He spat before turning on his heel and stomping back up towards his shuttle.

Yeah, now Steve really wanted to punch something. “You knew he was going to say that.” He muttered to Wanda.

“I knew he wasn’t going to say something nice.”

Steve snorted. “And what are the odds that I’ll hear something nice from him again?”

“Higher than you think. Lower than you’d like.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m going to go find her.”

“Do you really think you should be the one to talk to her, Cap?” Natasha asked, grabbing his arm before he could go far.

“Not really. But if there’s one thing we have in common, it’s that we’re the only ones not amused by this.” Steve yanked his arm out of her grasp and stormed out of the cargo bay, à la Bucky.

“James clearly didn’t think it was funny.” Pietro pointed out quietly, looking up towards the door of Bucky’s shuttle.

“Neither would you, were you in his position.” Thor said as Wanda pressed herself into his side, trying to burrow into his jacket.

“And what position is that?” Pietro asked, watching as the Asgardian pulled off his jacket and dropped it unceremoniously onto his sister’s head. Wanda giggled and pulled it on, delighting in the way it hung loosely off of her thin frame.

“The most difficult of all.”

Pietro wasn’t sure what Thor meant by that, but he knew not to press for more.

 

“Hello?” Steve called, looking around the lounge. “Are you in here?” No, definitely not.

Steve searched the lounge, the infirmary, kitchen, bridge, and even personnel quarters before he found the girl in the engine room, curled up in a corner sniffling and crying. She was a prettier crier than most people, but her eyes were still very much bloodshot and puffy.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked, instantly feeling like an idiot. Of course she wasn’t alright. She’d just been severely rejected.

“Last night…I thought you were _happy_.”

Steve sat down opposite her. “Well, yeah. _Last night_ , I was. I had good wine, food, music. A pretty girl gave me a hat made of flowers - and just when I thought I’d seen everything from Wanda, too - and we danced, and I didn’t step on her toes. I thought it was just a fun night. I didn’t know your customs, and I definitely didn’t remember any agreement involving human cargo. Not,” he added quickly, “that I consider you cargo, but you’ve got to understand. I was perfectly content with food and a little partying as payment.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Что ебешь? No, I’m not going to kill you! What kind of crazy planet is that?”

“I-I grew up hearing stories of what happened when men weren’t happy with their brides-”

“Yeah, well I’m a lot of things, but I’m not one of them. I don’t kill people who don’t deserve it. And you shouldn’t stand for that as it is. If someone tries to kill you, you try and kill them right back.”

“And if I get killed even if I try?” There was the slightest light of challenge in her eyes.

“You walk it off.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “Look, wife or not, you’re not property. You’re a living, breathing, thinking person. You’ve got the same right as anyone to a full life. And from the sounds of it, you’re better off not on that planet.”

She met his eyes hesitantly. She’d stopped crying, but the redness still there accentuated the brown-green color of her eyes. “What’ll you do with me?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. We’re headed for Beaumond, and as far as planets go, there are much worse alternatives. It wouldn’t be too hard to find you some decent work there. And I don’t mean selling yourself, before you jump to conclusions. They’ve got factories there, ranches, too, if you prefer being outdoors. I know a couple people who might get you a good job as a nurse. We’ve got about a week to figure things out.” Confident that she was feeling better than before, Steve stood up and made his way towards the door to the engine room.

“I’d be a good wife,” she said, voice shaking ever so slightly.

“I don’t doubt that, but I’d make a terrible husband. You’ve got five days to see that for yourself.”

She stood up suddenly, face glimmering with hope. “We’ll be together for five days?”

Steve unconsciously took a step back. “Well, we’ll be on the same ship. We won’t be _together_ togeth-”

“That’s fine,” she interrupted, smiling. “I’ll do for you - or not - as you like.”

Steve didn’t like the sound of that, but he let it slide. “Okay, then. You hungry? The kitchen’s right through there.” He pointed behind him in the direction of the kitchen.

Her pretty face lit up even more. “I’ll cook you something.” She declared, hurrying past him towards the kitchen.

“I meant more for you…”

“I’m a wonderful cook, everybody says so!” There was a life in her that hadn’t been there before, an energy of sorts. Honestly, Steve didn’t have the heart to snuff it out again.

“Hold on just a second! I haven’t even learned-”

“My name is Sharon.” She smiled at him through long lashes. “And you are Steve Rogers. There, we’re acquainted now.”

 

\---

 

“Divorce is extremely rare, and requires dispensation from her pastor.” Bruce reported, reading from the cortex. “I’ll send him a wave if you like, see what I can do.” He was sitting on the sofa in the lounge, Tony pressed into his side, reading over his shoulder. Either he was too preoccupied with his reading to notice she was there or he didn’t give a damn. Regardless, it was a bit adorable how she was playing with the curls around his ears.

“I’d appreciate that, if it’s not too much trouble. She’s a nice girl, really.”

“Eager to please.” Tony added.

“That, too. Seems like that’s just another one of their crazy customs.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at him. “I don’t know what rock you came from, but it’s not exactly uncommon for proprietary to involve the women being in a position of servitude on almost all planets. It’s unfortunate, but it’s an old sentiment we’ve yet to shake.”

“See, that’s why I played hard to get when Cap offered me this job. I had to make sure he was going to appreciate me.” Tony said with a chuckle, leaning her head onto Bruce’s shoulder.

Steve resisted rolling his eyes. “That’s not even remotely true. Our deal is that I’ll appreciate you as long as the engine does. And, seeing as we’re all not dead, I continue to appreciate you, Tony. I should probably go check on Sharon,” he added as an afterthought, “ just to make sure she’s not lost in all our cupboards.” Steve headed towards the stairs, but was stopped by Bruce’s voice.

“Just a word of warning, Captain. No matter what you tell her, there’s a chance she’ll expect there to be a consummation.” Tony snorted, but Bruce hushed her. “It might feel like stating the obvious, but you should probably not let that happen.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want to go to the special hell.”

“What?”

“Oh, just a joke I had as a kid. And have someone prep a room for her, please. I don’t care who, just get it done”

 

Steve was surprised by what she’d managed to whip up, to say the least. The stroganoff looked and smelled amazing, and Steve had to resist moaning when he took a bite. Warm, smooth, creamy, and arguably better than anything the entire crew combined could have made. Of course, some of the deliciousness was upset by Sharon standing right next to him, watching eagerly as he ate.

“Something smells heavenly.” Clint declared, walking into the dining area. He stood opposite Steve, mouth clearly watering as he stared at the captain’s dish.

“Supper for one?” Natasha asked, eyebrow raised and voice teasing. She was standing next to Clint, a hand on his shoulder as she eyed Sharon carefully.

“Sharon insisted on it. I didn’t want to make her feel-holy _говно_ this is amazing.” Steve said with a chuckle, unable to hold it in anymore.

“Is there any more where that came from?” the pilot asked hopefully, looking a bit like an excited puppy.

Sharon bit her bottom lip and shook her head minutely. “I didn’t think to make enough for everyone,” she told Steve quietly before looking to Natasha. “But everything is still laid out if you’d like to cook for your husband.”

Clint snorted, but made no comment, mostly due to the withering glare Natasha was giving their newest crewmember. Sensing that she’d said something out of turn, Sharon backed away and went to clean dishes. The Bartons took her leave as an invitation to sit down. It was almost creepy how they could mirror one another so effortlessly sometimes.

“So, are you enjoying your personal slave?” Natasha asked, only partially teasing.

Steve was getting really tired of this very quickly. “She wanted to cook, alright? At least she’s not crying.”

“I just might,” Clint said, eyes wide as he leaned towards the plate. “Did she really make fresh stroganoff?” Natasha focused her eye-daggers on him. “Babe, this isn’t personal! It’s _food_!”

She was still unimpressed. “Remember that sex we were planning on having ever again?”

Okay, Steve really didn’t need their married couple squabbles right now. “Can we just stop with this right now? I’d rather not have everyone assuming that I’m taking advantage of a girl raised to be servile who married me without my knowing or consent.”

“Oh, so you _are_ married.” Clint grinned.

Natasha made a point to ignore him. “None of us are saying that, Steve.”

“Yeah, we’re just giving each other significant glances and laughing incessantly.” Natasha didn’t look at him, but nodded in agreement. “Is that cider?”

Steve nodded, pointing behind him with his fork. “Behind the stove.”

“Great!” He picked up Steve’s glass. “I’ll get you a refill. Tasha, would y-” Clint was cut off by Sharon materializing next to Steve and taking a firm grasp of the glass.

“That’s for me to do.” She said, soft voice full of authority.

Clint, very much creeped out, let go of the glass and sat down slowly as Sharon walked back over to the stove. “Well, that wasn’t strange at all.” Natasha bumped his shoulder with hers. Both an agreement and her way of saying “I forgive you”.

Steve turned slightly to face Sharon as she came back with his newly filled glass. “You weren’t lying about your cooking, that’s for sure. If I hadn’t already eaten, this would all be gone, I guarantee. But, unfortunately…” He let the words hang in the air, not knowing what else to say.

Sharon’s face fell and she looked down, clearly upset. “You don’t want to finish?”

“N-no, I do, but like I said, I already ate. I have captainy things to do,” Clint snorted at the word ‘captainy’, “but I really appreciate the meal, thank you.”

She nodded, head hung so her blonde hair fell in her face. “Is there anything else you need?” Her voice was back to the quiet, subdued tone it had held before.

“No, but thank you again for offering. You have something to eat, alright? I’m going to go...captain.” Steve hurried out of the dining area, wanting to save himself further embarrassment.

As soon as Steve was gone, Clint grabbed the plate and dragged it towards himself. Natasha gave him a ‘really?’ look as he dug in. “What? I knew what I was getting into when I married you.”

 

“Beaumond,” Bucky annunciated, making sure the computer picked up his instructions. “City of New Dunsmuir. Arrival: October 24th. Departure-”

“Can I come in?” Steve’s voice came from the doorway.

“No.” Bucky said, pausing the screen, because he knew he was coming in anyway.

“That’s why I don’t ask.”

“What do you want, Steve?” Bucky snapped. The captain was sitting on one of his couches, somehow both comfortable and uncomfortable.

“Oh, nothing. I just needed to,” he swallowed heavily, “hide.”

“I see the honeymoon is over.”

“She’s a great girl, don’t get me wrong. Good cook, too. A little clingy, though.”

“Well, I’m sure she has plenty of good talents.” Bucky turned back to the screen. “We’re going to be on Beaumond at least two weeks, right?”

“Can’t be sure.”

“I need you to be sure.” Bucky could hear the ice in his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Unlike others, I make commitments with the intention of following through.”

Steve slumped slightly. “You’re mad at me.”

“Just now getting that?”

“Are you mad because I found a bride or because I don’t intend to keep her?”

“I find the whole thing repulsive.” Bucky crossed his arms, glaring daggers at the captian.

Steve stood up and took a step towards the Companion. “Is this about Melinoe?”

Bucky scoffed. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Steven. How self-centered are you, thinking this is about what happened on Melinoe?”

“ _You_ are the one that said it didn’t happen, and in any other situation, you would be helping this girl just like you did with Wanda and Tony. Sharon is even more helpless than Wanda - she barely thinks for herself, for crying out loud - and you just turn up your nose at her!”

“I didn’t say it didn’t happen! I said I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“As far as I’m concerned, not talking about it is the same as denying that it happened!”

They were in each other’s faces now, fists clenched, eyes blazing, and full of too many emotions to name. “You want to talk about it? _Fine_. You, the meathead with the strangest set of morals I have ever encountered, unknowingly challenged an aristocrat to a duel to the death when he insulted me. I’ve been insulted before, I can take it. But that didn’t matter to you. You were willing to throw your life away for me, and you nearly did.” Bucky’s voice had gone back to a normal volume, and his eyes were full of a softer emotion. “I never asked you to. All I’ve asked of you is that you let me stay on your ship and that you don’t come into my room unannounced. So far, you’ve only managed one of those.”

“That doesn’t explain why you kissed me, Buck.”

“I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Was that supposed to give me a fighting chance?”

“I don’t know, Steve! I was scared! I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, because every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the dozens of ways that Grant could kill you. I watched you die before my eyes over and over, and when I was faced with the real thing, I still couldn’t make myself look away.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m not happy that you got married, okay? I know it wasn’t your idea, but I don’t blame you or,” he took another deep breath, “or Sharon. What happened in that room on Melinoe was real, but it can’t happen again. You’d be better off keeping her around than holding onto a second of the past.”

Steve sighed and took a step back. “Is this the part where you sarcastically wish me hundreds of fat children and make me leave?”

“Yes.”

Alright, I’ll go. And I promise I’ll knock next time.”

“You won’t.”

“I will. I promise.”

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to not chase after Steve, drag him back into the shuttle, and kiss him senseless. Ignoring the watering in his eyes, Bucky turned back towards the computer screen and sat down. He had clients to look for.

 

\---

 

“I could be useful on a ranch.” Steve nearly jumped out of his skin (again) when Sharon appeared next to him. “Or as a nurse. I helped take care of other girls when they were ill; the matron said I had a knack for it.”

Steve nodded, processing her words. “It’s good work. My ma worked as a nurse back on Brooklyn. That’s where I’m from. I was sick all the time as a kid, so I was in that damn hospital as much as she was. Practically grew up there. Never met anyone kinder or stronger.”

“She raised you herself?”

“Her and most of the hospital staff.” He admitted with a laugh. “I’ve got something of a soft spot for doctors. Hell, I wanted to be one as a kid. I would help out in the children’s ward when I wasn’t half dead myself.”

“I can’t imagine you ill.”

“Not many people can. I got a fancy experimental treatment when I was seventeen. Got rid of all my problems: scoliosis, asthma, colorblindness, partial deafness. You wouldn’t believe it, but I was a good ten inches shorter and ninety pounds wet, but I grew and gained all this muscle mass in six months.” They had been walking slowly through the cargo bay, but Steve stopped dead in his tracks when he realized what he was doing. “You know, I have no idea why I’m telling you this. Not even Natasha’s heard the full story.”

Sharon frowned. “Is your crew not interested in your past?”

“No, it’s just…we’ve all got things behind us that we intend to keep back there. All we know is the bare bones, except for the twins. Clint’s deaf - in case you didn’t notice the things in his ears, Thor got banished for something or other, Nat was raised in some messed-up military colony, Bruce lost his job for being a good person, and Tony…” Steve hesitated, not sure how Sharon would react. “Tony wasn’t born a girl.”

Sharon nodded slowly, understanding. “Well, if it’s any consolation to her, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, she knows that all right. So, what’s your story?”

“I’m afraid you’d find me awfully dull.”

Steve smiled, chuckling. “Honestly, I’d kill for a little dullness. This day is getting a little too interesting for my tastes.”

 

Meanwhile, _Avenger_ flew past the destroyed remains of a once-moon. A device on one of the larger chunks scanned the ships and sent the information on the ship to its owners.

_-It’s a wreck._

_\--No, this is good._

_-It’s parts! Scrap! It’s a collection of cheap junk we’ll never unload._

_\--This is why I’m in charge, Bree. You can’t see the big picture. The parts are crap-_

_-That’s what I said._

_\--Shut up. But if you put it together, you’ve got a Firefly. Those things’ll run forever, so long as they got a half decent mechanic._

_-It’s got no flash._

_\--Some people don’t give a shit about flash. She’s a good catch. She comes our way, you prep the nets._

 

“There’s something off about her.” Natasha insisted, not for the first time.

“She’s led a sheltered life.” Clint argued.

“Did you see the way she grabbed that glass from you? There was something in her eyes…”

“Every planet has its weird customs. I mean, a year before we met, I spent six weeks on a moon where their main form of recreation was juggling geese.” Natasha gave her husband a strange look, wondering (also not for the first time) if there was something off about him. “My hand to god. Baby geese. Goslings! They were juggled!”

“Of course you’re running in to defend her.” Natasha huffed, sitting down in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Tash, I’m talking about geese.”

“We can’t afford to babysit a helpless lamb, and Steve knows it.” Natasha wasn’t someone who had a cheery exterior to begin with, but there was definitely something not good now.

“When did this become not funny?”

“When you didn’t turn us around and drop her back off on Triumph.”

“Oh, so this is my fault now? And what’s with the ‘helpless lamb’ comment, too? Wanda isn’t exactly the definition of self-sufficient, either, and you didn’t complain much to taking her on!”

“This girl is afraid to speak to anyone but Steve, and doesn’t seem to be capable of doing anything for herself without permission. Wanda may have her own problems, but she’s the opposite. She adores the entire crew, and she does as she pleases. But this girl? She’s trouble.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that. Is there anything else you’d like to share with the class?”

Natasha stood up smoothly, looking like she was about to say something important. “I’m going to bed.” She told him, then turned and left the bridge. Clint watched her leave, gaping. He’d never entirely understand her, but he wouldn’t trade her for the universe.

 

Sharon had popped up at a lot of bad moments, but this took the cake without question. Like Bruce had pseudo-predicted, she was in his bed when he entered his quarters. And, of course, she was naked.

“I’ve made the bed warm for you.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And I’ve made myself ready for you.” Sharon wouldn’t meet his eyes, but her body language was dripping vulnerability and a sort of almost flirty innocence Steve wanted to punch himself for finding attractive. It had been too long.

“Oh, I should’ve known it would come to this. Look, you know you’ve got a room, don’t you?”

Sharon nodded dejectedly. “And I’m supposed to sleep there?” She seemed both confused and disappointed.

“It’s got a bed, doesn’t it?”

“But…we’re married. I thought we were to become one.”

“No, uh, that’s not the situation here at all. We’re two individuals, and it’s going to stay that way.”

Sharon’s hands fidgeted. “I’m sorry. I just thought that after our talk earlier,” she started gesticulating with her hands, resulting in the sheet covering her chest to slip down. Growing up in a medical setting had killed any sexual feelings Steve may have had about women’s breasts, but in this context, he still had to look away.

“Okay, let me rephrase this, Sharon. This isn’t about pleasure, or desire, or whatever. This is about what’s right. And before you start quoting the Bible, know that it hasn’t ruled over me in a long damn time. You’re a beautiful woman, Sharon, and I won’t lie and say I don’t find you attractive, but...as far as physicality, it’s just been me for a long while now.” Himself and the image of storm-blue eyes, silky brown hair, and unfairly soft, kissable lips. “But any interest I could have in you is overruled by the fact that I don’t intend to string you along.”

“I spent my life in the maiden house.” Steve raised his eyebrows at her interruption, but said nothing when she continued talking. “I spent my life there, waiting to be married off for trade. I watched my sisters be married off to other men. Vicious, ugly, disgusting men with... _appetites_ too horrible to speak of. And I cried for those girls time and time again.” Steve clenched his jaw. That was the story on too many worlds. “But not half as hard as I cried when they gave me to you.” Steve’s mouth opened and closed in his confusion. He didn’t quite have an answer to that. “I cried because I’d never dreamed that I would be so lucky to have a man like you. A man who’s kind and strong and beautiful.” Steve felt his face heating up. “If I had been given a choice, I would choose you from all the men on all the planets the night sky could hold.”

Sharon stood up now, dropping the sheet, revealing her entirely. “I want this, Captain.” She said, taking slow, deliberate steps towards him. “I _swell_ to think of you in me.” There were just inches between them now. She looked down pointedly. “And I see you do, too.”

 _Damn testosterone._ “That’s-that’s not what you think.” He stammered, trying to slip around her but finding himself pinned.

“Drop me where you please,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. “Never look at me again. But let me have my wedding night.” Before Steve could say anything, she’d leaned forward and captured his lips in her.

 _Oh, you’re going to the special hell now, Steven_. Her lips were soft and plump and warm, but there wasn’t any spark. Not like there had been on Melinoe. Steve could feel her willing it to be something, but it wasn’t.

Now fully confident that he could say no, Steve gently pushed her backwards. “Look, I really wish it was simple, but-”

The world began to blur and spin. Steve felt himself losing his coordination. He managed to give Sharon, who he could’ve sworn was smirking, a wide-eyed look before toppling to the ground. He was asleep by the time his head hit the floor.

Sharon smirked, satisfied with her work. “Night, sweetie.” She said, grinning to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember saying something along the lines of "don't expect frequent updates" about two days ago, when I posted the last chapter. Well, this is one of my favorite episodes, so I wrote like some sort of fanfic version of Alexander Hamilton and I have 0 regrets. This is my shit.
> 
> This episode's Russian words/phrases are:  
> Я делаю. Один момент. = I do. One moment.  
> Сукин сын = son of a bitch  
> Ты такой романтичный = you’re such a romantic (said sarcastically)  
> Что ебешь? = what the fuck?  
> Говно = shit


End file.
